


Things to Remember

by the_fluffy_unicorn



Series: things to remember [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multiverse, No Smut, Parallel Universes, Sabriel - Freeform, Sabriel Big Bang 2015, Slow Burn, and the only spoiler you're getting from me is that there is a happy ending, anyway the main focus here is Sam and Gabriel, destiel lurking in the background, just kissing, like very VERY slow, set post s10 finale, well it's HINTED sorta but it's up to you how to interpret it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 49,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6086008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_fluffy_unicorn/pseuds/the_fluffy_unicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a story about parallel worlds. An infinite number of them. Some of them are so alike that there’s almost no way to tell one from the other. Almost. Others have practically nothing in common, to such an extent that if you saw them, you would have never believed that they were, at some point in the past, not two separate worlds, but one. </p><p>This is a story about the Gabriel who lost his Sam Winchester, and found a Sam Winchester, shredded into billions of pieces, scattered across the multiverse. It wasn’t his Sam Winchester, but still, he couldn’t just watch a Sam Winchester fade into nothing. So he picked up a piece of him, smaller than stardust, and then another, and another. And he started putting this Sam Winchester back together.</p><p>This is a story about two beings finding each other against all odds. They were drawn together by one of the fundamental laws of the multiverse, the one we all have encountered at some point in our lives, a tiny part of this law known to the human beings in any world as coincidence. </p><p>This is a story of how they met.</p><p>And everything that happened next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a shoutout to my two wonderful betas [Reine](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ReineS/pseuds/ReineS) and [Maddi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianGirl14/pseuds/SherlockianGirl14) for putting up with me and helping me through this fic. It's definitely been a wild ride and I loved every second of it =)
> 
> the amazing art for this fic done by [Iggy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Igglepuff/pseuds/Igglepuff) is here: <http://archiveofourown.org/works/6086583>

_Slow._

_It was all so very slow._

_He felt like… no, he felt, period. He found that he didn’t have any words to describe things. He knew there should be lots of them, but he couldn’t find any. He tried focusing on something: a thought, a word, anything; but the words and their meanings simply slipped away. His mind was reaching out, eager to grab the first thing that came within its limits, but all those things seemed to be teasing him, barely brushing his fingertips, avoiding his grasp, almost there, but not quite there yet. He grew restless, his mind lashing out against the invisible walls that kept everything out of his reach, ready to break itself in case the walls didn’t crumble._

_And just when the first wave of panic was ready to hit him, his body tensing at the sensation without him acknowledging it, there would always be this warm golden light, holding him gently, soothing his mind with its soft touch, calming him down until he relaxed, and the words he still could not reach did not seem that important any longer. And so, he would finally let go, allowing himself to be carried away into blissful unconsciousness, surrounded by nothing but that beautiful golden light._

…

He came to, still a little dazed, vision blurry. It wasn’t dark and that was good; he couldn’t yet remember why, but he had expected to be surrounded by darkness. When he woke up, his hunter instincts on full alert, he felt the first little wave of adrenaline rushing through his system, jolting him upright, forcing him to open his eyes and then slowly retreating as soon as his brain registered the bleary gray daylight pouring in through the car windows. No immediate danger. Good. It meant he could deal with it later.

He blinked for a few moments, willing his consciousness back online, remembering. He threw his right arm up, focusing on it. Right. No Mark, not anymore. He turned his head to the right, mouth half-open to speak; to call someone. But who? He could not remember. He frowned, concentrating, then shook his head. Nobody was in the passenger seat; he came here alone.

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, letting his eyes fall shut again for a brief moment before forcing them open and climbing out of the car. He needed to see how deep into the ditch baby had gotten with his failed attempt at fleeing the scene before the whole disaster with the Darkness, and look for the ways to get her out and get back home. He was pretty damn sure that the thing looking like a shit ton of demon smoke covering the entire planet was really bad news, despite the fact that it was nowhere to be seen at the moment, and needed to be sorted out as soon as possible.

Half an hour later and a few boards from the abandoned Mexican restaurant where his showdown with Death took place the day before (he was still a little hazy on how he managed to kill Death with his own scythe all by himself, but brushed it off on the effects of the Mark as it was still present then), he managed to pull baby out of the ditch and back onto the road. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, so he listened to the engine for a while, just to make sure there was no damage. Content to hear its usual steady purr, he turned on the radio and floored it, heading to the bunker and trying his best to ignore the odd sensation crawling under his skin.

Behind his back, hidden under the leather beneath the windshield, the initials S.W., etched into the car surface right next to D.W., started to fade, and by the time he made the forty-minute drive to the bunker they were completely gone.

…

_Time passed by, though he was not yet aware of time. Sand-filled minutes softly rustling through the hourglass, filling it to the brim, marking the hours; the hours, in turn, merging into days and nights, filled with the same steady rhythm of his heartbeat, sparse and shallow breaths, and sand grains rolling down. Every time the last grain of sand slid through the hole, the hourglass would turn, starting the cycle anew. He didn’t see it, drifting in and out of consciousness without ever opening his eyes, but felt its steady presence, anchoring him, keeping his body relaxed even through the brief periods of time when his mind grew restless._

_He wasn’t yet aware of his body, his mind still devoid of words and concepts, still trying to grasp onto something during his rare moments of clarity, still failing every single one of those attempts. He didn’t know how many attempts he made, the concept of numbers being beyond him as well. It was so much easier for him to let go and slip back into the blissful nothingness with each failed attempt. This sensation, this odd feeling of his personality slipping through his own fingers worried him, nudging his mind to action; however, the options are extremely limited for a mind that is almost blank._

_There really wasn’t much he could do, trapped in his own mind, coming to and slipping away again, over and over, as time passed, carefully measured out by the hourglass standing on the bedside table, barely pushing the darkness away from his face with its soft golden glow._

…

Halfway down the stairs he caught himself expecting someone else to walk in after him and lock the door. He turned on the spot and was met with an empty staircase and half-opened door that squeaked a little, closing slowly. He reached the top in two giant leaps and threw the door open, gun in his hands, safety clicked off.

No one was there. He looked around, just to make sure, lowered the gun and returned to the bunker, closing the door behind him and checking twice to make sure it was locked.

He walked down the stairs, taking in all the mess, the piles of books and clothes strewn across the floor. He remembered everything he said or did while he had the Mark, but it was a little hazy and somewhat difficult to place the events in the correct order. But he did remember, and for the first time in almost a year he felt the crushing weight of guilt pressing him into the ground, making him wince. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Clean up now, drink later. He could do that.

He set to work, concentrating on the task at hand and trying his best not to think. Take a book, wipe the blood off, put it in a stack, repeat. The monotonous steady rhythm of repeated motions immersed him in some sort of trance, and all the books were back to their shelves before he knew it. He blinked a few times, looking around, realizing that the piles of clothing and shards of glass from shattered photo frames were gone too. The room was spotless. When did he do all that? He had no idea, but the job was done, and that meant he could finally have a drink and stop thinking about it. Just for one night, he thought. Just this one night, and then he’d get back to saving the world from whatever it was that sprang free as soon as the Mark was gone from his arm.

He walked into the kitchen, reaching into one of the cabinets to get a glass and stopped dead, hand suspended in mid-air, as soon as his brain sent him a warning signal. He slowly retrieved his hand and turned around, staring at the counter behind him. There was a salad bowl sitting on the countertop. A salad bowl and a cutting board and a knife, along with a half-chopped cucumber and other… salad stuff. He rubbed his eyes. A salad bowl? He was sure that he didn’t even own a salad bowl! But there it was, a shiny metal thing _that made those awful shrieking scraping sounds every time a spoon touched its surface, making him cringe and hate rabbit food even more than he already did, and that one time he even went as far as to hide it from his… from…_ from who? He snapped back to reality, screwing his eyes shut and shaking his head. What was it that he was thinking just now? The thought was still lingering there, but no matter how he tried he couldn’t reach it. It just slipped away.

He looked at the empty counter again, shrugging off a weird feeling that something was missing, then turned to grab a glass from the cabinet and headed back to the living area.

…

_Nothing was happening._

_He still didn’t have means to understand any of those concepts, but it bothered his mind, because it was used to something, anything happening at any given moment, and it was rooted too deep inside him to give it up so soon. That is what kept him pushing, still, despite his every waking moment being spent with the same amount of exhaustion and the same result. Nothing._

_Every time he came to he was ready to give up; he was giving up, slipping back into unconsciousness without any effort and with barely any resistance, because he was too tired to keep reaching out. He was almost an empty shell, a lifeless cardboard cut-out shaped like a human, almost nothing, almost not there at all. Yet that ‘almost’ was all that he had; all that he was, and it was not nothing, and it could not give up._

_It simply had to keep fighting, to keep pushing for something, anything to happen, because otherwise it would cease to exist, and it could do no such thing, for it was existence itself._

_Nothing was happening, but he was still there._

…

He looked at the clock and sighed. It was 10 pm; another day all but gone, leaving him with nothing. Hell, he was sure that if it were possible for someone to know less than the day before after painstakingly researching the subject for hours, that someone would definitely be him. He stood up, stretching until his back popped, and walked across the library to pour himself a glass of whiskey.

He settled back into his chair, trying to focus on the book he was reading one last time before calling it a day. But as soon as he was able to concentrate, his phone rang. He closed the book, marking the page, and picked up the phone.

“Hey, what’s up?” He paused, listening to the hunter on the other end of the line. “Yeah, still nothin’. Uh huh. Thanks, Mitch. Call me if you see anything, okay? Bye.”

He tossed the phone onto the table and finished his whiskey in one go, setting the glass down with a sharp knock. All of the leads he had turned out to be a complete waste of time; his and his fellow hunters’. And every passing day made it look like there was less and less he could do.

It was when he finally stood up, admitting that he wouldn’t be able to have any more work done, that he heard a tell-tale sound of fluttering wings, followed by the familiar husky voice.

“Hello, Dean.”

He spun in place, nearly dropping his chair, and stared at his friend, not really believing he was standing there, as if nothing happened, as if he’d been there just the day before.

“Cas? What the hell, man? Where have you been? I’ve been calling you for days!”

“What do you mean? I came as soon as I got your message.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve left you more like _ten thousand_ messages! I prayed to your sorry ass, Cas, I even tried summoning you, but you didn’t bother to show up!”

“Dean, I told you, I got here as soon as I got your message. Did it work? Is the Mark gone? And where is…”

“Where is what, Cas?”

Dean waited for the reply, but it never came. Cas was looking all confused, like he often did, full on with his head tilted to the side and a frown, and his eyes wandered about the room, as if he was expecting to see someone else there, but couldn’t remember who or why. True, at times Dean found this particular trait of Castiel’s endearing, but today it felt like just another thing among the rest of the things to piss him off.

He was angry. He was angry with Cas for not showing up earlier or at least sending him a text to let him know he was still kicking. He was angry with the dumb books and fruitless internet searches that gave him zero information on the Darkness. But deep down he was angry with himself; angry and guilty for beating the living crap out of his best friend, for not being able to take the Mark under control, for making his friends do the unthinkable things in order to save him. And Cas acting as if everything was perfectly fine between them kicked his guilt up a notch, making his anger bubble and boil inside his head, and he couldn’t take it anymore, so he snapped. He crossed the room, grabbing Cas by the shoulders and shaking him, and spat in his face:

“Hey, cut it with your weird act already, Forrest, and answer the damn question!”

Cas finally looked at him, frowning.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Where. Have. You. Been. For the last five friggin’ days? I thought you were dead!”

Dean all but shouted the last phrase, pouring what was left of his anger into it, and fell silent, his own words still ringing in his ears. He let his hands drop by his sides and looked away, hunching his shoulders. He felt tired. Tired and cold.

Castiel hesitated for a few beats before tentatively reaching out and placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was soft and reassuring, but still with some force underlying that softness.

“Dean. It wasn’t your fault. None of it was.”

It took him just one quick glance at Castiel’s concerned, honest face to start blinking rapidly in order to prevent the stupid wetness from spilling. He took a step forward and pulled Cas into a tight hug. And, as always, Cas froze for a moment, unsure what to do, and then hugged him back, putting just as much force into it as Dean did.

“I thought you were dead,” Dean said again, his voice cracking. “I don’t… I don’t know what I would…”

“It’s okay,” Cas said, holding him tighter. “It’s okay.”

They were still hugging, and it probably had already lasted too long to be socially acceptable, but Dean didn’t care. Cas was there; Cas was alive. It was all that mattered.

“Aww, you guys are just damn adorable!”

An oddly familiar obnoxious voice echoed through the hallway, startling them both, making Dean jump away while Cas took a step forward, placing himself between Dean and whatever was powerful enough to get past the warding in the bunker.

Dean couldn’t believe his eyes. Gabriel, the most annoying of the archangels and Trickster of the Lord, stood in front of them with his arms crossed over his chest. He was leaning against the wall nonchalantly, looking at them with a smirk.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Gabriel waved his hand between the two of them, raising an eyebrow and staring at Dean pointedly. “I could, ya know, pop back in later in case you’re… busy.”

“Gabriel.” Castiel’s voice was calm and even. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothin’ much.” Gabriel shrugged, casually inspecting his nails. “Just stopped by to say hi to my baby brother and see that constipated look on the elder Winchester’s mug whenever he stumbles across dear old me, – ah! There it is! I must say I’ve missed that!”

At that point Dean decided that he had enough of arch-douchebaggery, and almost opened his mouth to retort with his usual line about holy oil and deep-fried wings, but Cas beat him to it.

“What do you mean by ‘the elder Winchester’? There are no other Winchesters that I’m aware of. Unless it’s your way to insult Dean by implying that he is the only one in his family who is still alive? That is low, Gabriel, even for you.”

“Ohh, Cassie, look at you!” Gabriel cooed. “Always protecting your favourite Winchester, aren’t you? Oh yes, you are such a good little guardian angel!”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and glared at Gabriel, making him gasp and throw his hands up in mock surrender.

“Hey, no need for death glares, there are places where those things can literally kill you, did you know that?”

“C’mon, Cas, let’s go get something to eat. I’m starving.” Dean waited for him to turn around and gave him a look, before making his way to the kitchen, ignoring Gabriel completely and hoping that Cas would catch onto his new tactics and do the same.

Cas followed him after a beat, and Dean smiled to himself. Dean Winchester: 1; Douchebag Archangel: 0. Without saying another word, he pulled a pizza out of the freezer and put it into the microwave. Then he fetched a couple of beers from the fridge, offering one to Cas and settling in to wait for the pizza.

A couple of minutes later Gabriel popped into the kitchen, sitting on one of the counters and kicking his legs like a five-year-old.

“Want another one?” Dean asked, pointing at his beer.

“No, thank you, Dean.”

They both continued ignoring Gabriel. Dean took the pizza out and cut it into pieces, putting them on two plates and offering one to Cas. He took the plate with a small smile and a nod, and they started eating.

Gabriel let out an exasperated sigh and rolled his eyes.

“And that is the kind of attitude I have to deal with after coming back to life! I get it that there’s no party: you couldn’t have known, so that’s forgiven. But you could have at least greeted me with _‘Oh Gabriel, I’m so glad you are not dead!’_ How come you meet him that way, but not me?” Gabriel pouted at Dean, nodding towards Castiel as he spoke.

“Because you,” Dean pointed at Gabriel, still holding a piece of pizza in his hand, “are not my favourite angel. And he is.”

“Ouch. That hurts. But fair point, so… touché.”

Dean smirked and took another bite of his pizza.

“Besides, you were still pretty much alive last time I saw you. Or were you stupid enough to go and get yourself killed in some sort of angelic bar brawl?”

“Bar brawls are your specialty, Dean-o, not mine.”

Gabriel was silent for a couple of moments before slapping his hands onto his knees and jumping off the kitchen counter.

“Okay, this was fun, but now I’m bored. What’s the point of hinting at things when you don’t remember said things anyway, am I right or am I right?”

His tone shifted into cheerful and determined, and before Castiel was able to open his mouth to ask him what he was getting at, Gabriel appeared in front of the table, simultaneously placing two fingers on each of their foreheads.


	2. Chapter 2

For a brief moment Dean was so dizzy he had to grab at the edge of the table so that he wouldn’t fall off his chair. Then he felt a sharp pain piercing through his soul. It was an odd sensation, and he never would have thought that it was possible to physically feel his own soul, yet there it was, and it _fucking hurt_. Next item on the menu was something similar to falling off an airplane and plunging towards the ground with the speed and determination of a nuclear warhead; and Dean _hated_ heights. But right when the awful feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach was up to its highest point, he heard a distant sound that reminded him of an arrow being released from the bow, a _twang_ and a _whoosh_ , and everything was back to normal.

In fact, it was much more than normal. It was as if he had just woken up from a really bad dream where everything was very life-like, but slightly different, and he never knew it was a dream while he was dreaming, but could not believe how he could have mistaken it for a reality that it never was. His mind was sharp and clear, and he remembered everything.

He remembered everything that happened after ground zero, starting from his waking up in the Impala and up to that very moment in the bunker kitchen. _And everything that was before._

He snapped his head up, looking at Gabriel with panic in his eyes, ready to jump from his seat and into action, to do something, _anything;_ yet he stayed in place, frozen, unable to move.

“Sammy?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“And welcome back to our show!” Gabriel clapped his hands enthusiastically and turned around, pretending to face the cameras. “Let me introduce our contestants here: Dean Winchester and Castiel, his devoted angel, on a quest to find Dean’s little brother, ooh! That is so touching, I know! And can you imagine, – oh the _horror!_ – that Sammy Winchester has disappeared off the face of the Earth, or any other planet for that matter, and managed to do it so perfectly that everyone, including his own brother, forgot he had ever existed!”

Gabriel proceeded to wipe a non-existent tear out of the corner of his eye, fanning himself with his other hand, while a fake audience gasped and cooed, and maybe it was a little too much, because that was the exact moment when Dean jumped off his chair, grabbing Gabriel by the lapels of his jacket and shaking him fiercely.

“Gabriel,” he growled. “You sick son of a bitch, what did you do to my brother?!?”

Gabriel just smirked at him from the other end of the room where he snapped himself the moment Dean got a hold of him, and shook his finger in the air.

“Ah, ah, ah! Hands off your favourite archangel, for I am the only one who can get your brother back!”

“Gabriel, what did you do?” Castiel stared at him disapprovingly. “Where is Sam?”

“You know, it’s really funny to see you both so concerned about Sammy’s well-being, considering that you had no idea what I was talking about just a couple of minutes ago. And you’d still be as clueless as before if it wasn’t for me, by the way.”

Dean did his best not to jump in and punch that asshole again. He clenched his fists and took a deep breath. He’d try to argue his point. That’s what Sam would do if he were there.

“Well whose fault is it that we forgot about him in the first place?”

“Why, oh dear Dad, why do these people always assume I’m the bad guy?” Gabriel rolled his eyes, pressing his hands to his chest in an overly dramatic fashion, and after a pause turned to stare at Dean with hurt, accusing eyes. “What is wrong with you?”

“Me? What is wrong with me? What is wrong with _you_?!? Or did you forget all those times you jerked us around for your own entertainment?”

“Dean, I don’t-”

“Hold on a second, Cas, just let me finish, okay?” Dean turned back to Gabriel. “Look, I don’t know what exactly you were expecting when you showed up here like this. We’re not friends, okay? Not buddies, not pals, not anything! I don’t know much about you, and the things I do know are not so subtly hinting to _stay the hell away!_ Yeah, sure, you stood up to Lucifer and got yourself killed in the process, or, the way I see it now, _made us think_ that you got yourself killed! So do I really need to explain to you why it is, when I come to and realize that my melon has been screwed with, _and_ see your arrogant face nearby, that I come to the conclusion that it was you who did it?”

Dean wasn’t even aware that he was yelling at Gabriel or that Cas was holding him back in order to prevent him from getting physical with the archangel again, until he threw his last question at him and stopped, breathing heavily. He was expecting Gabriel’s usual theatrics or a sarcastic retort, but none came.

Tense silence filled the kitchen. Gabriel was staring into an empty space in front of him, drumming his fingers on the counter, as if he had completely forgotten about them. Cas slowly let go of Dean’s arms, and Dean didn’t move, looking at Gabriel, waiting for him to reply.

“I did die then.”

When Gabriel finally spoke, his voice was flat and lifeless, all its usual lilt gone.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but I did. For real. And it wasn’t pleasant. You can trust me on this one, at least.”

Gabriel let out a short humourless laugh and fell silent again, staring into the same empty space, and it made Dean’s skin crawl.  Castiel shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t say anything.

Suddenly Gabriel slapped his hands on his knees and turned to face Dean, a determined look on his face.

“Fine. I hate to admit this, but you’ve got a point, Dean-o. And under any other circumstances I would love to keep messing around with you two, because those looks on your faces? Priceless! Anyway, let’s get down to business. I know you don’t trust me; _I_ wouldn’t trust me if I were you, so it’s all fine with me, I get it. But no matter what you’re thinking, I’m really here to help. So. Us.” Gabriel waved his hand between the three of them. “Working together. Ideas?”

Dean stared at him incredulously.

“What makes you think that we would wanna work with you?”

“I know for a fact that you don’t want to work with me. But I’m afraid you’re stuck with me on this one. I’m the only one who can get Sammy back.”

“Well, I’m not so sure about that. Cas? What do you think? Can we trust the arch-douche over here?”

“I don’t think trusting Gabriel would be wise, Dean. Yes, he did help you once, but I believe he did so for his own reasons. However, he is telling the truth about Sam.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.”

“Gee, thanks, Cassie! I knew I could count on you!”

“Alright. Here’s the deal. You,” Dean pointed his finger at Gabriel, “are gonna stow your crap and answer our questions, and you’re gonna be honest. And we get to decide whether it works for us.”

“Fine. Go ahead. I’ll give you all the answers you need, big boy.”

“And stow your crap.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll do my best on stowing my crap if you insist. No promises though.”

It seemed that Gabriel was back to his usual obnoxious self, as if he wasn’t spacing out and being really weird just a couple of minutes ago. Dean looked at Cas, shrugging, and Cas just sighed, so Dean decided to give it a go. It wasn’t like they had too many options.

“Okay, I’ll go first. Where is Sam?”

“Ahh, that is a tough one!” Gabriel raised his hands in mock surrender as soon as he noticed Dean clench his jaw. “Hey, no need to lose your shit there yet, bucko! I’m just trying to find the best way to explain this, so would ya gimme a second?”

Dean grunted in response, and Castiel placed a hand on his arm, reminding him to stay calm. Gabriel took a deep breath and continued.

“Before you say or do anything, just remember that I’m being completely honest here. So. Right now, Sam is in his room, and Sam is _not_ in his room at the same time.”

Dean flinched at the words, but Castiel squeezed his arm, reassuring and calm, and he managed to pull himself together and stayed in place instead of tearing out of the kitchen to get the holy oil – or to get to Sam, he wasn’t sure which.

“You both didn’t remember Sam because you couldn’t have. Physically. Sam wasn’t here. Not on Earth, not in Heaven or Hell, _not anywhere_ in this reality. You can say that he got caught in the explosion when you knuckleheads decided to go and have a little picnic with the Darkness.”

“What’s with the Darkness, by the way?”

Dean heard himself ask the question before he realized what he was doing. Now that he had this awful feeling in his gut that Sam was, most likely, worse than dead, he found himself stalling, asking the first relevant question that wasn’t about Sam. He knew he was deflecting, but it was all too much, so he continued talking right after a small, almost imperceptible pause.

“I mean, I’ve been cooped up in here and up to my ears in research, I’ve called in every favour that I had, and I still got jack squat.”

“Ah, that would be my bad.” Gabriel smiled smugly, as if he were telling the best joke of the year. “I just had to make sure that you don’t find anything, Dean-o. Got Cassie here held up a little bit as well. So yeah, baby bro, when the yahoo over there was yelling at you earlier about not showing up for a week, he was telling the truth. Sorry about that.”

“Why did you do that? I don’t understand. I could have helped Dean with his research.”

“My point exactly. See, I didn’t want you two go all ballistic again and start breaking dear old Luci from the cage. You did avert the apocalypse just five years ago, I’d say it would have been kinda premature to start it all over again, unless you’re one of those people who prefer to smack snooze button on their alarm clock and jump at the annoying sound it makes every five minutes instead of turning it off once and for all. Besides, I took care of the little problem with that nasty spell for you. I’m so considerate, I know. You’re welcome.”

“Spell? What spell?” Dean looked at Cas, alarmed. “Did that bitch do somethin’ to you, Cas?”

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle, Dean. I’m fine.”

Gabriel snorted, but didn’t comment on that. Dean stared at Cas for a beat, then muttered something under his breath and turned to Gabriel again.

“You still didn’t answer my question. What’s the deal with the Darkness? How do we find it and get it back where it belongs?”

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty head about that, Dean-o. The Darkness is way above your pay grade. Besides, it’s been taken care of, so you can chill.”

Gabriel paused, chewing on his lower lip, and added:

“The only thing that needs to be set right is Sam.”

Dean wanted to ask the question, but couldn’t bring himself to speak. He looked at Cas helplessly, but Cas just looked back at him with a little frown, not sure what Dean wanted him to do. Dean stared at the ground, rubbing his face tiredly.

Gabriel spoke up again, and his voice was soft and sincere.

“I can help him. Sam is going to be okay. I promise.”

Dean snapped his head up to look at Gabriel, surprised by a sudden change in his tone.

“How… how bad is it? Just tell me. Straight up, as it is. Please.”

“I’d say, it’s the worst thing he’s been through, and that includes Hell. Sam almost ceased to exist. He’s been shredded to billions of pieces and scattered around space and time. I’ve managed to gather some of them and started putting him back together, but it’s nowhere near done yet. I’ve put together as much as I could, but the rest of it should be done here, otherwise your world wouldn’t take him back.”

Gabriel paused and looked at Dean, whose face was contorted with guilt. Gabriel let out a soft chuckle.

“I guess it’s my turn to tell you to stow your crap, huh? Cut it out with the self-loathing, Winchester. It wasn’t your fault. It was his choice. Sam was ready to sacrifice himself yet again to save his beloved brother, and he did. But it doesn’t mean that there’s nothing to be done about it.”

“Can I see him?” Dean asked, his voice very quiet.

Gabriel gave him a long look and turned to leave the kitchen without saying another word. Dean followed suit, Castiel closely behind him. As they were walking down the corridor, Castiel reached out and squeezed Dean’s shoulder in silent reassurance. A few seconds later Gabriel stopped in front of the door leading to Sam’s room, and turned to face them.

“Just let me make one thing clear, Dean-o. You can’t get into this room under any circumstances. Not until I say so. And it’s not a whim, and not any sort of trick to torture you if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Good. Glad we understand each other so well. It’s a matter of life and death, ya hear me? Until I finish putting the Sammy puzzle back together, no one can enter this room. Deal?”

Dean nodded. Castiel frowned at Gabriel, but nodded as well.

“Okay. Moving on. Yes, Sam’s here, in this room. But he’s not here entirely. You can see his body on the bed, but that’s pretty much it. Most of his consciousness and his soul still need to be collected, and I’m on that. You two need to stay here and remember him.”

“What do you mean – remember him? Of course I remember my own brother!”

“Oh really?” Gabriel raised his eyebrow with a half-smirk. “And you’re sure you remembered him just half an hour ago?”

“Are you trying to say that we’re gonna go back to… back to the way we were?”

“Not entirely, no.” Gabriel shook his head. “Technically, Sam still doesn’t exist. So until I finish putting him back together, the whole universe will keep spinning on the premise that _there never was a human named Sam Winchester,_ and rest assured that it’s gonna want to tag you two along with this crazy notion. That’s why you have to remember him.”

“If I understood correctly, you were able to shift the temporal displacement back for Dean and me. You don’t think it’s going to last long enough for you to collect more of Sam and come back here?”

“Why, Cassie, you’re way smarter than I thought! And to answer your question, I don’t know. I’m pretty sure it’s gonna last for at least a week, but you can never be too careful with these things, right? So please, indulge me. Do whatever you need to, but you’ve got to keep focused on Sam until I get back.”

Dean was looking back and forth between Gabriel and Castiel as if they had suddenly turned into sentient horses. Very intelligent sentient horses, who were talking complete horse shi- all right, not that. But still.

“Hey, can any of you speak English, please? I’m way too tired for your nerd talk.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Dean-o,” Gabriel drawled. “I could have stayed and _explained things_ so that even you got them eventually, but, seeing as time doesn’t exist, it’s extremely precious, and I’ve got none of it to waste.”

And with a snap of his fingers, Gabriel was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the cliffhanger (but this one is not the worst. I'm a sucker for those. sorry)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here comes the paaaain - uh - sorry? %)  
> (it's not the worst there gonna be just a fair warning but I WILL make it all better)  
> amazing art by [Iggy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Igglepuff/pseuds/Igglepuff)

_ _

 

_Warm._

_It was so very warm._

_This time, when he came to again, he finally had a word to describe this feeling. Warmth. He felt it all around him, enveloping him in its soft embrace, that beautiful, warm golden light, and now he had a word to describe it. The word was… just there, waiting for him, right within his reach, and his mind latched onto it eagerly, making his body shudder. He dove straight into it, disassembling it and putting it back together, trying to wring every last shade of meaning out of it._

_He felt warm. He felt safe._

…

Dean and Cas both stared at the spot where Gabriel had been standing just a moment before, and then looked at each other. Dean glanced at the closed door and cleared his throat.

“So. It is safe to open it, right?”

“Yes, Dean, I believe so. As long as we don’t enter the energy field created by the object Gabriel placed inside this room with your brother’s body, we should be perfectly fine.”

“Object? What kind of object are we talking here?”

Castiel tilted his head to the side, frowning slightly, as if he were trying to make out the words of a song only he was able to hear.

“I’m… I’m not really sure. It feels… odd.”

“Odd? Odd how? And what does it do anyway? You know, apart from keeping us outside of this room?”

“It doesn’t keep us out, Dean. It keeps Sam in.”

“So what are you saying, he’s trapped in there?”

“No, he is not. As Gabriel said, he isn’t _quite there yet_. And what parts of him are, they seem… seem to have difficulty holding together. So that object… it helps. It holds him together, and mostly unconscious, in order to prevent any possible damage to his soul. You could say it’s like a medically induced coma, but for the soul.”

“Okay then, so what’s odd about it? I mean, we’ve seen a lot of weird crap in our line of work, and I’m sure you’ve seen even weirder. How is it different?”

“I don’t know. It just feels… out of place. But that’s not important. It does the job.”

There was a pause, and Dean shifted from foot to foot, staring at the door in front of him.

“Alright,” he said. “Here goes.”

He turned the handle and gently pushed the door open, remaining outside. The room was dark, and he had to stand there for a while, peering into the darkness, until his eyes could catch a faint golden glow coming from the bedside table by his brother’s bed. The glow was emanating from a large hourglass in a circular wooden frame. It was difficult to tell, but it looked like some symbols were carved into the frame. Dean leaned forward just a bit, trying to get a better look at it, and then he saw Sam’s face.

He had to hold onto the door frame to keep himself from running into the room. At the same moment he felt Cas’ hand on his shoulder.

“S’okay,” he said, voice unsteady. “S’okay, I know. Won’t go in there.”

Sam was lying in his bed perfectly still. Not a twitch, not a flutter of an eyelid, not a puff of breath, nothing. His face was devoid of any expression, features relaxed. It was as if Dean was staring at a life-sized 3D photo of his brother. For a long moment he was unable to look away, but when he did, moving out of the doorway and slowly sinking onto the floor next to it, the weird image of his not-quite-there brother seemed to be etched into his mind, and he kept seeing it even with his eyes closed.

He heard a soft click of the door being closed beside him, but couldn’t bring himself to move or open his eyes. He sat there, listening to the steady thump of his own heartbeat, concentrating on the sound like it was a lifeline.

“Can you… I wanna stay here for a while. Alone. Please?”

“Dean, I don’t think it’s such a good ide-”

“Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. I’m not opening that door again anytime soon, Cas. Just please. Go wait in the library or something.”

There was a pause as Cas hesitated, and then Dean heard a faint rustling, and Cas’ warm hand gripped his shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“Call me if you need anything.”

“Will do.” Dean nodded, eyes still closed.

…

_After that, the words kept tumbling in, washing over him like tidal waves, crushing into the walls of his mind, overlapping, connecting and disconnecting, dissolving into each other and gathering new shades of meanings, bringing them up to the surface and leaving them there, like the ocean drags pebbles and shells and odd bits of objects from its depths and tosses them to the shore, leaving them glistening in the sun, those beautiful treasures that look so dull and uninteresting once they are dry, but sparkle and shine brighter than before when another wave hits them._

_He was five, and he was on an endless beach, playing with those treasures, stacking them into a pile and then carefully laying them out on the sand one by one in an intricate pattern, and the way they fit together and made up something beautiful and completely new every time he rearranged them never ceased to fascinate him._

_He felt warm. He felt safe._

_He was happy._

…

“And that one time we stopped in Salt Lake City and I talked you into hitting the bars with me, do you remember that one, Sammy?”

Dean was sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. The door to his brother’s room was open, but everything in there was perfectly still, and Dean stopped looking inside some time ago, opting for closing his eyes instead. It was much easier to concentrate and _remember_ that way.

“We weren’t even on a hunt, just rolling through, and it was raining all night and all day, and we decided to stop for a while, and Charl-”

Dean winced, his voice cracking, the memory of losing her still too fresh, but continued talking after a brief pause. He couldn’t bring Charlie back, but there was still hope for Sam, so he was willing to rip his heart out of his own chest repeatedly if it meant that his brother would live.

“And Charlie managed to hack us into a decent hotel that time, because she was feeling generous, remember? Remember the rooms in that hotel, Sammy? They were awesome and had those little chocolates on the pillows, what was the name of that hotel? Was it a Marriott? Or a Hilton? I could never tell the difference…”

It’s been three days since Gabriel left, and sometimes Dean felt like he’d been there forever, sitting on the floor by the door, either with his eyes closed, or staring at the tiled wall in front of him; talking to Sam, rediscovering memories that were at once happy and painful.

“Anyway I talked you into hitting the bars, and we started with the hotel bar, because why not? Gotta try everything at least once in your life, right? And that cougar started coming on to you with the force of a freight train, and you didn’t know how to get away from her and her horrible pickup lines, and I gotta tell you, man! That was hilarious!”

He was constantly going through a checklist in his mind: his brother’s full name, date of birth, the code words they used during the hunts, the apocalypse, rabbit food, Jess, Ruby, the trials, the night mom died. The list was random, and some of the memories were painful, but if it hurt it was real, and that was what mattered most.

“And then I think you got mad at me, because I maybe laughed too much about this whole thing and you stormed off, and I was kinda expecting the cougar to hit on me next, but she left shortly after, and I decided to get out of that hotel bar because honestly? It was boring as hell, but then I went back upstairs to grab my jacket and was just in time to save your hide from the Kitsune that cougar turned out to be, remember? And I told you that you were some kind of monster magnet; do you remember that, Sammy? And… and I’m sorry, Sam, I didn’t mean it, I was so dumb to think it was funny, I… I don’t know why I said it and I am so sorry, Sammy… please don’t… don’t leave me, Sam, I… I can’t do this without you. I can’t.”

Dean didn’t even realize he had tears streaming down his face until he felt someone cautiously touching him on the shoulder. He snapped his eyes open to see Castiel’s concerned face, those piercing eyes of his staring at him in his usual manner, unblinking, but soft and understanding; and Dean lost it, pulling the angel into a hug, burying his face in Castiel’s shoulder, letting go of what little self-control he had left, crying his pain out.

Castiel let him cry, holding him gently, running his hand along Dean’s back in a soothing motion every once in a while.

“It’s okay, Dean,” he said. “It’s going to be okay.”

…

_He was trying to figure out the best way to place a bright blue seashell shard in order to complete the pattern, snuffling and frowning in concentration. His little hand holding the shard hovered above the pattern with uncertainty, moving a little to the right, then a few rows up, and he whooped with glee as the shard landed on the right spot, making the entire pattern light up in the sun. He sat there, smiling, admiring the pretty colours, joy and warmth overwhelming him._

_“Well done, kiddo!”_

_He turned his head to the right, looking up at the man who sat on the sand with his legs crossed, staring at his pattern._

_“Who… are you?”_

_It was very difficult for him to talk, but he managed the short question and stared at the man expectantly. The man smiled at him. It was nice and warm, his smile, and he smiled back._

_“I’m a friend. Do you know what a friend is?”_

_He thought about it for a bit and then nodded enthusiastically. The man’s smile got wider._

_“Great! Much better than I expected! Now, do you know your name?”_

_He stared at the ground, poking the sand with his finger._

_“I… I… can’t…”_

_“You can’t remember?”_

_He shook his head and looked up again, his eyes wide and watery, lower lip trembling. The man smiled at him and ruffled his hair._

_“It’s okay, kiddo. Don’t be upset. You will remember pretty soon, I’m sure. Now, I’ve got something for you here.”_

_The man reached into his pocket and then placed his hand palm up onto the sand close to him. He looked at the proffered hand, inspecting the treasures laid out on it. A marble. A piece of driftwood. Two green pebbles, one smooth and round, the other sharp-edged and rough. A shell. A toy soldier. He looked up at the man and he nodded in encouragement._

_“Go ahead. It’s a present. Should be no problem for a smart kid like you to find the right spot for them in the pattern, huh?”_

_He took the treasures one by one, laying them out on the sand. The glow of the pattern dimmed, and he set to work, grabbing the round pebble and placing it almost immediately. It fit perfectly._

_“You’ve certainly got a knack for it, kiddo.”_

_The man stood up and ruffled his hair again._

_“Keep going. I’ll be back soon.”_

_He waved goodbye and turned back to the pattern in the sand in front of him._

…

“Well, this is awkward.”

Gabriel made a show of shielding his eyes with his hand, shuffling past them while Castiel glared at him over Dean’s shoulder.

“Oh, don’t mind me, just… carry on with whatever you kids were up to, I’ll pop into Sammy’s room real quick and be on my way.”

Gabriel was almost at the door when Dean leaped in front of him. His eyes were still a little red and puffy from all the crying before, but if glares could kill, his would most likely be a lethal one.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled, shoving Gabriel back against the wall.

Gabriel threw his hands up in the air.

“Whoa, easy there, tiger! I’m the one doing the whole get-your-brother-back-into-one-piece thing, remember? And I know exactly where I’m going, so can you please be so kind as to back off and let me do my damn job!”

“Oh yes, I remember that alright. But what I also remember is you saying that nobody can enter the room until Sam is okay again, or he _dies!_ ”

Gabriel sighed and stared at Dean, raising an eyebrow.

“Come on, Dean-o, get your shit together and think for a second. I know you still can do that, despite not being the brightest one in the family. Or has the lover boy over there been keeping you up at night and got all your brains scrambled?”

“Gabriel, that’s enough!” Castiel snapped, getting in between them. “You said you would help Sam, so go and help Sam instead of picking on Dean. It’s hard on him as it is without you adding to it, don’t you think?”

He stared Gabriel down, eyes narrowed and jaw set. Gabriel let out another exasperated sigh.

“Aw, Cassie, you’re no fun today! Did somebody piss in your cornflakes or something?”

Castiel didn’t reply, still glaring at him, and Gabriel stared back, clearly amused by the whole situation, a sly smile slowly working itself onto his face. He rocked on his heels back and forth before turning away from them and heading to Sam’s room once again.

Dean made a move to stop him, but Castiel held him back. Gabriel turned around and rolled his eyes at the scene.

“Relax, Dean-o! I’m sure you would have figured it out by yourself eventually, but you’re clearly stressed out of your mind and can’t think straight, so I’ll indulge, but just this once. I’m here to put more Sammy bits in place, and I need to enter the room in order to do that. That glow thingy in there? Hard wired into my grace. So no, Sammy _will not_ die if I enter the room. In fact, my entering the room will put him as far away from dying as possible, all things considered. Mind if I get in there now?”

Dean grumbled something under his breath, but didn’t make a move to stop him this time.

“I’ll take it as a yes. Glad we came to an understanding. Go get some sleep, bucko, you look like shit. And don’t worry about me, I’ll let myself out.”

Gabriel entered Sam’s room and threw a wink at Dean before closing the door right in his face.

Dean groaned in frustration and looked at Cas sheepishly, feeling utterly embarrassed.

“I guess I kinda overreacted here. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Don’t worry, Dean. Gabriel can be… difficult at times. I understand. But he said he would help Sam, and that is exactly what he is doing now.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. It’s just… that sneaky son of a bitch gets to me every time, and I hate that!”

“We only have to deal with him until Sam is back. I’m pretty sure he will get bored soon after that and be on his way.”

Castiel hesitated before continuing.

“He was right about one more thing though. You need rest, Dean. And proper food. Sitting here all this time… it doesn’t do you any good, and it won’t help Sam.”

“But I gotta do _something,_ Cas! I can’t just… pretend it’s all sunshine and rainbows when my brother is hanging in there on the verge of non-existence!”

“I know. I know it’s been difficult for you, Dean. But you’ll have to be here for your brother when he wakes up. It’s gonna be a slow recovery for him, and you are going to need your strength to help him through. I understand you can’t sleep, and I can’t force you to, but it’s been three days, and you’ve barely eaten. So I’ve taken it upon myself to remedy that, at least.”

Dean stared at him, not quite getting what he meant, and Castiel smiled at him softly.

“Come. I made dinner,” he said, gesturing towards the kitchen.

“You made… what now, Cas?”

“Dinner. I’m not sure if it’s done properly, though. I’m not very skilled in cooking, I’m afraid, but um… I’ve watched a culinary TV show and I believe I managed to follow the instructions the host was giving, so…”

Castiel trailed off, unsure if it was a good idea, and looked away.

“You made dinner. For me. Oh man, that is awesome!”

Dean clasped a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, and when Castiel looked up at him, startled, he saw Dean smile at him. He smiled back, and Dean’s grin grew wider, his eyes crinkling up at the corners.

“C’mon, let’s see what you got there,” Dean said and began walking down the corridor, Castiel in tow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's my birthday today so here have another chapter bc I feel like it and we shall return to our regular posting schedule on Sunday =)  
> it's a bit longer and also there's angst and a pretty nasty cliffhanger, again: not the worst one yet to come, again: I'm sorry  
> love you guys hope you enjoy it <3

_He was still barely aware of his surroundings, and he didn’t yet feel the need to ask the questions anyone would have asked in similar circumstances. Who was he? Where was he? Who was that man that kept appearing next to him out of thin air? He wouldn’t be able to answer any of those, if asked, but nobody asked him, and his mind was too busy with rearranging the pattern on the sand to bother with those questions. At that point, the pattern was all that mattered. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt it, deep inside, this gut feeling that making the correct pattern was important. The questions were not._

_He didn’t know how long he had been sitting on that beach, too concentrated on the task to notice or to care. However, he did note, somewhere in the back of his mind, the slight changes that were happening to him as time passed by and more and more pieces were added to the pattern. He didn’t feel the changes happening, but merely acknowledged them when they were already there, because they helped him do things better than before. Like the fact that his hands grew bigger, and it was easier for him to pick up and place the pieces into the pattern. Or that his legs didn’t wobble any longer when he had to stand up and walk around the pattern to see it from a different angle. Or that his head was much further away from the ground when he stood up, and it helped him see the entire pattern at once._

_He twirled the last of the pieces in his hands, looking through the pattern over and over again, but couldn’t find the right spot for it. That was really strange. He thought that he must have overlooked something, or maybe misplaced the previous one. He kept staring at the pattern intently, and wasn’t aware that his friend was back until he heard the familiar voice._

_“Hey, kiddo.”_

_He nodded, not taking his eyes off the pattern, tapping his chin with the last piece thoughtfully, until he felt a gentle nudge on his shoulder. He looked at his friend, surprised to see him grinning from ear to ear._

_“I see you got a problem there? Well, this is good. You’ve no idea how good this is and we shall fix your little problem in no time, but first you have to answer me. What’s your name?”_

_He opened his mouth to tell him that he didn’t know, like so many times before, and was completely taken by surprise with his own answer._

_“Sam. My name is Sam.”_

…

Dean was getting sick and tired of it all. It’s been almost five weeks, and nothing seemed to change. They had a routine worked out, the three of them ( _the four of them,_ he had to remind himself, _don’t forget Sam, you cannot afford forgetting Sam_ ), and were going over it day after day.

He would wake up, take a shower, make some breakfast. Cas would join him at breakfast, emerging from the library where he spent most of his time now. At first Dean thought that Cas took a habit of eating with him to help make things look as normal as possible, but soon he realized that Cas found as much comfort in their shared meals as he did. Dean was grateful that he didn’t have to eat alone. He didn’t say anything, but made sure to set the table for two every time.

After breakfast Dean would sit by his brother’s room, talking to him, remembering things. It was down to their childhood now, and he was really surprised by how much he could recall, and how vivid and clear those memories were. In about an hour he would get up and go check on baby, then head to the gym for a work-out. He was sure he wasn’t going back to hunting any time soon, but he had to stay in shape. He could have asked Cas to spar with him, but even if it looked like Cas forgot – and forgave – the beating-him-to-almost-pulp episode, Dean didn’t. So treadmill and weights it was, and then another shower and it was time for lunch.

Then there was another couple of hours of talking to Sammy, practice at the firing range, and then back to sitting by Sam’s door until Cas came to tell him that dinner was ready. He was really getting into cooking, and wanted to try out every new recipe he saw on that culinary show, and Dean wasn’t about to discourage his best friend when he seemed to have found such a good way to pass the time and distract himself.

Once Cas had even talked Gabriel into staying for dinner. Dean’s first reaction was a _‘hell no’_ , and he did his best at resisting until Cas pulled puppy dog eyes at him, and that look was worthy of Sam’s best ones, so he gave in. Dinner went much better than he expected; although, if he were being honest with himself, Gabriel sort of grew on him after a while. Sure, he still mocked and teased them both relentlessly whenever an opportunity presented itself, but he also knew when to stop and take things seriously. He never showed it, but Dean had a feeling that being invited to share dinner with them meant more to Gabriel than he let on.

But most importantly, he seemed to genuinely care about Sam.

Gabriel would pop in every other day and disappear into Sam’s room to do his thing. Sometimes he would leave without bothering to actually walk out of the room, and it made Dean wonder why he wouldn’t pop straight into the room as well, until he realized that Gabriel was doing it for him. Gabriel was trying _to help him_ _as well_ , not just Sam. Well, that was definitely a new – and weird – idea, but the more Dean thought about it, the more it made sense.

Every time Gabriel appeared in the bunker he was all set: trademark smirk in place, a dozen of witty remarks primed and ready to be fired, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. But soon Dean was able to tell whether his hunts for ‘Sammy bits’ were more or less successful by the first glance. Somehow he was able to see past all of Gabriel’s guards, and found that they had quite a lot in common. He didn’t, of course, let any of it show, and tried not to think about it, because Gabriel still managed to drive him mad every once in a while. But, however irritating and annoying it all was, he simply accepted it as something unavoidable that came with the ‘bringing Sam back’ package. After all, he assumed, it wasn’t such a big price to pay for his brother’s well-being.

There was one problem with the whole thing, though. Every day was like the day before and the day before that, with no change in Sam’s condition, and Dean was growing more and more restless with every passing day that yet again didn’t bring any progress.

…

_Remembering his own name was such an utter shock to him, that he barely nodded to everything his friend told him afterwards, still processing it, rolling the name around in his mind and repeating it to himself in awe._

_Sam. My name is Sam._

_His friend, however, seemed to understand what he was going through, and disappeared soon, leaving him with a slightly altered (‘It’s time to play 3D chess, kiddo!’) pattern and a handful of new pieces to add. Next time he appeared, he asked Sam if he remembered anything more, but there was still just the name, and his friend told him not to worry, because the name was a big breakthrough and it would all come back to him eventually. Sam itched to remember more, and for the first time he realized that his friend knew a lot more about him than he did himself. He wanted to demand answers, but somehow felt that it was not right, to find out that way; he knew that he had to remember._

_And it started happening, slowly, way too slow for his liking, but he began gradually piecing the memories back together._

_My name is Sam Winchester._

_That was how he greeted his friend about a dozen visits later; and his friend pumped his fists in the air and did some sort of a crazy dance, kicking the sand up with his feet. Sam grinned at him, and reached out to take another handful of pattern pieces from his hands._

_My name is Sam Winchester and I am a hunter._

_It was getting easier and faster after that. Sam felt like he was slowly writing out his own resume, filling in the blanks._

_My name is Sam Winchester and I hunt monsters._

_He had to work in order to find each additional piece of information about himself, but it was so worth it. He was reaching out into the void, and finally, finally he was able to get a hold of something important, to find himself in the dark._

_My name is Sam Winchester. My brother’s name is Dean. We hunt monsters together._

_As far as he could tell, he was back to being his fully grown self now, although he suspected that this place, wherever it was, had nothing to do with reality. He never felt hungry or tired, and spent most of his time with his pattern. He was already able to fit all the new pieces into the pattern moments after his friend left; so he spent the rest of the time between his visits looking into the glowing centre of the pattern that was now hanging low above the sand and slowly turning, as if it was a giant ball hanging on a string from the ceiling; just like the one, he remembered, in the dimly lit room at that college party where he met Jess for the first time._

_It was all coming back to him in slow and gentle waves, so he wasn’t surprised at all when he turned to face his friend the next time he appeared, and realized that now he had a name to go with the face._

_“Hello, Gabriel.”_

…

Dean woke up, feeling irritated and restless the moment he opened his eyes. It was just another day. Nothing new, nothing important. He knew that he had to get up, get to his morning routine, just like he did yesterday and the day before and the day before that. He was so tired of it. Clinging on to the tiniest hope that one day Sam might wake up. That Sam would wake up, and they would get back to hunting things, to their normal life. Their definition of normal, at least, but if anyone asked, Dean would have told them that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

He missed the simplicity of it all. Find a case, get there, work it, get rid of whatever kind of nasty it turned out to be, make the world a better place. A safer place for normal people. People not like them, people who knew nothing about the things that lurked in the shadows, and couldn’t protect themselves. And it was his job, his and his brother’s and the other hunters’, to protect those people, to keep them safe, simply because somebody had to.

And not being able to do his job took something out of his life, something he never even realized that he needed until he had to spend over a month on lockdown. Sure, there were other times when he took breaks from hunting, but they were mostly forced on him, like being injured and needing time to recover, or tend to his brother while he recovered. And when they weren’t forced, they were still his choices, his decisions.

This time, he wasn’t the one making those decisions, and he really hated that. He was relieved that the Mark was gone, and that whatever consequences of its removal were, they were dealt with. But the memories of everything that he did while he was… not quite himself, they were all there, clear and fresh as if it all happened just yesterday.

He wished he could fix it, undo what he did, but his actions and his words were a thing of the past, and there was nothing he could do about that. He was sorry for what he did, but that just wasn’t enough, and there was only one way for him to redeem himself, at least a little. Help people. Get back to the family business, track down and kill every monster that he could, most likely dying at the hands of the one that he couldn’t, but that thought was nothing new to him, and he made peace with it quite some time ago. After all, hunters never died from old age.

He stared at the ceiling, mulling over the idea. Cabin fever was nothing new to him, considering his lifestyle, and he knew from experience that the best cure for it was to go out there and kill something. Or, if there was no monster at hand, get to a bar and hook up with someone. But for the reasons he did his best not to think too much into, he really didn’t feel like the latter, so a hunt it was. He needed to find something simple and solid, something to hold on to other than the waning hope for his brother to get back from being, according to Gabriel, worse than dead.

He jumped off the bed and grabbed his phone. Now that he set his mind on the course of action, he was itching to get to it as soon as possible.

“Hey, Mitch. How’s it going? Yeah, still jack squat on my end as well. Uh, listen… I’m going stir crazy here, man, and it’s getting me nowhere, so I’m thinking maybe working a case. Change of scenery, that sorta thing. You got anything in the area to toss my way? Really? Oh, that’s awesome, man, thanks! Text me the details. Alright. Bye.”

He knew that it probably wasn’t the best idea. Cas would definitely try to talk him out of it. He’d have to ditch Cas. But he also knew that if he stayed in the bunker, going over his usual routine for one more day, he’d go insane, and there wouldn’t be much of him left to take care of Sammy if he wakes up. _When he wakes up,_ he corrected himself.

Dean tossed the phone back onto the nightstand and headed to the kitchen to start on the breakfast.

…

_Gabriel looked at him, blinking slowly, his face scrunched up in an unreadable expression._

_“Uh… Hey, Sam.”_

_He wanted to say something else, but Sam reached out and pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. At first it was like hugging a wooden doll: Gabriel was stiff and still and didn’t hug him back._

_“Thank you,” Sam said, not letting him go, and Gabriel relaxed a little, his hand coming up to pat him on the shoulder awkwardly._

_“Any time, kiddo. But um… what are you thanking me for here, exactly?”_

_Sam drew back a little and stared at him incredulously._

_“Saving me, of course. I assume I’m in a rather shitty situation, considering it’s taking this long. I mean, I’m not sure how much time has passed, but it feels like forever.”_

_“Yep. Forever it was. In a way.”_

_“I’ve figured I’m not dead, because this is definitely not what’s being dead like. Been there, done that.”_

_Sam grinned at Gabriel, and he relaxed some more, smiling back._

_“Oh, Sammy, bringing you back from the dead would have been a walk in the park. This thing here,” Gabriel gestured at the glowing pattern, “is a bit more complicated. Now, talk to me. How much do you remember?”_

_“All of it, I believe. It was coming back to me gradually, but I think I’m up to date now. So, childhood, growing up, college, hunting. I think I’ve got everything covered, up to being hit by the Darkness.”_

_“So… you remember our… previous encounters then?”_

_“Yes, Gabriel, I do remember. And I remember the apocalypse as well. And you… I’m really glad that you’re not dead, by the way. I mean, not because you’re here to drag my ass out of this mess I got myself into, but… it’s good that you’re alive. Looks like we don’t get everyone who sticks around killed after all, huh?”_

_“Hey, it was my choice. Not your fault, Sam. Absolutely not your fault.”_

_Sam kept silent for a while, staring into the pattern absent-mindedly, until he felt Gabriel gently bump their shoulders together._

_“No grudges then?”_

_Gabriel was looking at Sam, eyebrow raised and an uncertain smile tugging at his lips. Sam smiled back, and his smile was warm and reassuring._

_“Yeah. No grudges.”_

_They both went silent again, but this time it wasn’t awkward or tense; it was an easy sort of silence, the one that didn’t require any of them breaking it by bringing up some meaningless conversation topic._

_It felt nice._

…

“He did _what?”_

“I’m sorry, Gabriel. I tried contacting you earlier, but couldn’t reach you. I called him, but he wasn’t picking up his phone. He left a note. It says he should be back by tomorrow. But I’m a little concerned. I can feel the pull of the temporal displacement. Can’t really say I’m enjoying this sensation.”

“A little? You’re _a little concerned,_ Castiel? Wow, that’s just…”

Gabriel threw his hands up in frustration and started pacing around the room, completely at a loss for words. Yeah, sure, leave it up to Dean fucking Winchester to make a total mess of everything when he was _this close_ to success! And he was actually trying to help that dumbass, ‘go easy on him’, as Castiel had suggested.

“I uh… I wanted to go after him, but-”

“Oh, no. No, no, no! You stay right where you are, Cassie, I’ve got my hands full with just one idiot on the run, no need to add to that, thank you very much!”

Gabriel sighed and ran a hand over his face. He needed to focus. True, it wasn’t all that bad and definitely nothing he couldn’t fix, but the sheer stupidity of the whole situation courtesy of the eldest Winchester annoyed him so much that he really wished he could smite the stubborn son of a bitch. Preferably on an infinite loop. Oh, and make him _remember_ it all this time.

Gabriel shook his head, getting back to the reality, and looked at Castiel. Focus. Right.

“Okay, so. You stay here, and keep close to Sam’s room, just in case. I’ll go track the idiot down and bring him back. _Do not_ leave this place even if the sky comes crashing down, ya hear me? I can deal with anything, really, but I _don’t have time_ to go chasing after you too, do you understand?”

“Yes, Gabriel. I understand. But how will you be able to track Dean? The sigils that I’ve carved into his ribs-”

“Make him untraceable, yeah, yeah, I’m aware.”

Gabriel waved his hand dismissively, trying his best not to let his irritation show.

“But I’m absolutely sure you didn’t put those sigils onto his precious car. You see, Cassie,” Gabriel paused, wiggling his eyebrows at the now completely confused angel, “Dean might let you touch him anywhere you want, but I’m ready to bet anything he would throw a hissy fit if anyone laid a finger onto his precious baby.”

“Yes, Dean is… very protective of his car, you are right about that.”

Gabriel looked Castiel dead in the eye, waiting for his beautiful double entendre to sink in, but Castiel’s face was all frowny and confused, as usual, and after a while he gave up, letting out an exasperated sigh and rolling his eyes.

“I wasn’t talking just about the – uh, never mind. Stay here. Watch over Sammy. And don’t worry, I’ll get your precious Winchester back.”

…

_“So,” Sam finally asked. “Do you have something for me today?”_

_“Yep.”_

_Gabriel reached into his pocket and took out three pattern pieces, tossing them into Sam’s outstretched palm. Sam got up and slowly walked around the pattern, staring at it intently the whole time. He made a full circle and plopped down into the same spot he was sitting in a few moments earlier. His hands were empty. Gabriel stared at him, his eyes wide._

_“Are you trying to tell me you’re done with them already?”_

_“Yep.”_

_“Whoa, that was impressive.”_

_“Thanks, I guess. It just got easier with time, somehow.”_

_“Yeah, I know what you mean.”_

_Gabriel held a pause, scooping up a handful of sand and watching it seep through his fingers._

_“There aren’t that many pattern pieces left, you know. Shouldn’t take too long to get you up and running again.”_

_Gabriel looked up at Sam, his face serious, eyes locked with Sam’s._

_“I know you’ve got a lot of questions, Sam, and I will answer them as soon as I get you out of here. But right now I need you to stay focused on the pattern. I know it might seem as a tedious task now, seeing as you’re almost fully back to being you, but it’s nowhere nearly done yet. So please, keep going, okay?”_

_Sam nodded, and when he looked up again, Gabriel was gone._

…

Dean lit a book of matches with his trustworthy zippo and threw them into the grave, squinting a bit as the flames roared up. It felt so good to be finally back in business, that he was wondering why he hadn’t done it earlier. The ghost he had just put to rest killed a six year old kid, and he was barely in time to save another little girl from slowly running out of air in an old industrial freezer. The looks on her parents’ faces when they saw their daughter alive was the best reward he could have asked for.

He turned his back to the flames and walked away from the abandoned house. He briefly contemplated burning the whole thing down, just to be sure, but then decided against it, not wanting to attract too much attention.

He made a short drive to his motel in record time and dropped onto the squeaky bed, checking his phone to make sure there were no new messages from Cas. There were none, which meant that there were no changes in Sam’s condition, and he might as well catch on his sleep before heading back. Ever since they had discovered the Men of Letters bunker, he preferred sleeping in his own bed, and he was really surprised by a sudden bout of nostalgia for spending nights at crappy motels. Talk about missing his job, huh.

He kicked his boots off and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Morning came way too soon for his liking, considering he spent half the night digging up that grave. He groaned and ducked under the pillow to avoid sunlight hitting his eyes. _Should have closed those blinds yesterday,_ he thought. He knew that chances were pretty low he’d be able to get back to sleep, so he rolled out of bed, heading for the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, considering his options. He could go back to the bunker, back to researching the Darkness, but being out in the real world again, doing what he was supposed to do, made him feel amazing. It was his purpose in life, after all. Cas was still nowhere to be found, and the Darkness… Well, chances were that he’d sooner bump right into it while working a case, rather than sitting in the bunker with his nose buried in a book.

He took his phone and sent a quick text, letting Mitch know that the job was done and that he decided to stay in the field for a while. The reply came in less than a minute. Possible werewolf attack two states over, and the hunter who was working the case went MIA a couple of days ago. He texted ‘on it’ and shoved his phone into his pocket, grabbing the Impala keys and heading out to get some breakfast. He had a long drive ahead of him.

…

_They didn’t talk much during the next few visits. Gabriel would pop in, leave a few pattern pieces in Sam’s lap and disappear again, throwing him a quick smile and a greeting on the go. Sam didn’t mind that at all: he wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, and he knew that Gabriel understood that as well. So he kept looking into the pattern, feeling more and more like himself with every passing moment._

_There were just a few pieces to add each time, unlike before, when Gabriel could bring him a couple of dozens of those at once. And now he could clearly see the empty spots in the pattern where the remaining pieces were supposed to go. So when Gabriel appeared next to him, holding out a single piece, he didn’t have to say anything._

_Both of them knew that it was the last one._

_Sam finished the pattern, reaching out to place the piece without standing up, and turned to stare at Gabriel expectantly._

_“I bet that look on your face means you wanna ask me ‘what now’, huh?”_

_Sam nodded, suddenly finding it too hard to speak. Gabriel shrugged, staring into the pattern._

_“I wish I knew, kiddo. But see, this is my first rodeo of this sort, so I’m kinda making it up as I go.”_

_Gabriel sounded embarrassed and a little annoyed, not looking at him while he spoke._

_“Hey,” Sam said, placing a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and squeezing it lightly. “I… I trust you, okay?”_

_Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up as he turned back to stare at Sam, eyes wide with disbelief._

_“You… trust me? But why?”_

_Sam threw his hands up, letting out a short laugh._

_“Oh, believe me, I have never even imagined I’d be saying this to you, but… It’s true. I do trust you. I mean, you’ve done so much for me already, and I have a feeling you would not have gone to such a trouble if you just wanted to mess with me like before. It’s not your style. Besides, this place… it makes the difference, you know? You still act like you, but… more honest? So yeah, I trust you. Whatever you’ve been doing so far is working; and I’ve got no doubt you’ll pull me through. Even if you’re making it up as you go.”_

_“Ah, you’re smart! But then again, you have always been the smartest one, haven’t you, Sammy?”_

_Gabriel jumped to his feet and clapped his hands, turning to the pattern again._

_“Okay! Let’s see what can be done here, shall we? And maybe you’ll even get to find out for yourself whether you were right about that trusting me part!”_

_Sam grinned at him, getting up from the sand._

_“Tell me what you want me to do then.”_

…

Dean walked into the diner and settled into a booth by the window, greeting the waitress with a smile and a wink. She blushed a little as she handed him the menu, telling him she’d be right back to take his order. He took the menu from her hand, letting his fingers brush against hers and causing her blush to grow darker. He chuckled as he watched her go, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a familiar annoying voice.

“Smooth, Dean-o, smooth! Looks like you still got it! But come on, hitting on a waitress? What would your boyfriend have to say about that?”

Gabriel shook his head, staring at him disapprovingly. Dean glared at him, his hand reaching into his jacket for the knife.

“Gabriel, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Who, me? Oh, same thing as you. Having breakfast. Their pancakes are delicious by the way, and the apple pie is to die for. And don’t bother with the toothpick you got in there, bucko, you know it won’t work on me.”

Dean slumped back in his seat, letting go of the knife but not taking his eyes off Gabriel.

“You still didn’t answer my question.”

“Oh, answering questions isn’t really my thing, I’m sure you know it all too well. So how about we change this up a little bit and you answer mine instead?”

Gabriel leaned across the table and narrowed his eyes, leveling him with a hard, cold stare.

“What are _you_ doing here, Dean?”

Dean flinched back, blinking a few times. The sudden change in Gabriel’s demeanor felt oddly familiar, which was strange, considering that he couldn’t remember the last time he ran into the arch-douche. This nagging sensation somewhere in the back of his mind really annoyed him.

“I’m on a job, you asshole, and if you don’t mind I’d really appreciate it if you let me eat my breakfast in peace and get back to it. So why don’t you go bother someone else for a change, huh?”

“Okay, let me see.”

Gabriel was holding Dean’s phone in his hand, scrolling through it idly. Dean frowned, patting his pockets that were now empty, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, Gabriel tossed his phone back to him and snapped his fingers.

“There. Case solved. Now, shall we try that again? _What are you doing here?_ ”

Dean’s phone buzzed and he unlocked it, reading a new text from Mitch that said the werewolf case hunter showed up and the job was done, so there was no need for him to drive all the way there. He stared at Gabriel in disbelief.

“Did you… why did you do that?”

“So that you can focus on what’s really important! Come _on,_ Dean-o, what _is_ the most important thing for you? Think! You can still remember, I know that, and trust me, it would be so much better if you remembered it on your own. As much as I’d love to see you suffering from the world’s worst hangover in case I have to shake up that brain of yours again, there could be other, not so pleasant consequences.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Are you high or something?”

Gabriel let out an exasperated sigh.

“I am not high, and you are missing my point. That nagging feeling you’ve got going in your head, the one that keeps telling you that something’s not right? Listen to it! You know it’s there for a reason; you’re just too stubborn to admit that. Now. Think twenty-four hours back. What were you doing?”

Dean opened his mouth to tell him to fuck off, but then… there it was, just a flash, a glimpse of something he couldn’t quite catch; a memory. He closed his mouth and then his eyes, focusing on that annoying sensation and trying his best to lure it out.

“I was… at the bunker, making breakfast, getting ready to go out to gank this ghost. I made eggs and bacon and some pancakes for Cas, and we ate breakfast and I was thinking of the best way to sneak past him later on, and then I… then I went to check on… Oh, shit!”

Dean’s eyes snapped open and he stared at Gabriel in shock.

“I… I almost forgot him, how could I have forgotten him?”

“You’re an idiot, that’s how!” Gabriel said, rolling his eyes and sending them both back to the bunker with a snap of his fingers.

Dean turned just in time to see Castiel emerge from the hallway and stop dead in his tracks, giving him his trademark squinty-eyed look. He groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“Ah, Cassie, glad to see you’re still here and not running around doing God knows what with half your memories shoved up your ass! Take him off my hands, please, and make sure he remembers everything. I need to go check on Sammy.”

Gabriel looked at the elder Winchester, who still sat with his face buried in his hands, and shook his head in amusement, heading towards Sam’s room.

“Oh and don’t worry, Dean-o, your precious car is safely parked in the garage,” Gabriel called over his shoulder as he strolled down the corridor. “Don’t say I never did anything for ya!”

…

_Sam didn’t know how much time had passed since Gabriel’s last visit. He’d popped in several times after the last piece was added to the pattern, but didn’t have too much to say except for ‘keep at it’ and ‘it’s not the time to pull you out yet, sorry’._

_So Sam did as he was told, sitting on the sand, staring into the pattern dutifully, trying his best not to give in to the growing sense of irritation and restlessness inside him. He was feeling much better now, and his mind kept wandering off despite his efforts to keep it concentrated on the task at hand. He thought about Dean, how hard it must have been for him to go through the whole thing on his own. He wondered if Cas was okay, really hoping that Rowena didn’t trick him and didn’t escape with the book and the codex._

_He longed to be back to his life, to get to deal with the mess they’d left while resolving their own issues yet again. He wanted to visit Charlie’s grave, telling her that her death hadn’t been in vain, that they did save Dean. He wanted to tell her he was sorry he got her killed. That his brother avenged her death, but it was pointless, because it didn’t bring her back._

_He was feeling useless, sitting on that endless beach and staring into the same spot inside the glowing pattern; wasting all this time when he could have been out there, doing something, helping people._

_He pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around his legs, resting his forehead against them and closing his eyes. Suddenly he felt tired, tired and cold, and he couldn’t do anything to prevent all those pent up emotions from tearing him apart._

_He felt something wet and cold touch his arm, again and again, but couldn’t bring himself to look up, to see what was going on; and it took him a couple of minutes to realize that it was raining, the heavy drops banging on his head and his hunched back. It should have startled him, pushed him into action, because nothing ever changed on the beach before, but his limbs felt too heavy, and he couldn’t move._

_Two warm hands were suddenly clasped onto his shoulders, shaking him, and there was a voice yelling something, but he couldn’t hear the words, and he realized that it was because of the howling wind that he somehow managed not to notice before. He lifted his head slowly, blinking the raindrops away, looking at Gabriel, who kept on yelling something at the top of his lungs and shaking him, making his head loll onto the side._

_Gabriel must have realized Sam couldn’t hear him, because he let go of his shoulders and carefully cradled his head in his hands, pressing their foreheads together, his eyes boring into Sam’s._

_“Sam, listen to me.”_

_Suddenly Sam could hear Gabriel’s voice loud and clear, despite the storm still unraveling around them, and it took him a few moments to realize that Gabriel’s voice was now inside his head, and Gabriel’s lips didn’t move as he spoke._

_“Sam. Please, you need to stop this. You are not ready to leave this place, not yet. I don’t know what will happen to you if I take you out now! Come on, kiddo, pull yourself together for me, please? It’s you, you are doing this, Sam, and only you can make it stop! The rain, the wind, all of it, you hear me? It’s all in your mind, we are inside your mind, and you are tearing yourself apart!”_

_Sam could hear every word Gabriel told him, but it was nearly impossible for him to string those words together and grasp their meaning. He could feel it was something important, and he did his best to understand it, but it was useless, and his head was spinning, faster and faster._

_“G’riel… trust… you.”_

_It was all Sam managed to say before the world around him stopped spinning and everything went black._

…

“Cas, I’m… shit, I fucked this up, haven’t I?”

“I’d go as far as to say you _almost_ fucked it up, Dean. But it’s okay now, as long as you can remember everything.”

Dean nodded, trying his best to avoid Castiel’s scrutinizing stare.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Do you mind if I check?” Castiel reached out two fingers towards Dean’s forehead, pausing in mid-air. “This is very important, and we have to be sure you’re fully out of the temporal displacement field.”

Dean nodded and closed his eyes, feeling Castiel’s fingers ghosting over his forehead.

“Yes, everything seems to be in order.”

Silence fell between them before Castiel spoke up again.

“Why didn’t you talk to me about this, Dean?”

“You know why. Because you’d have told me it was a bad idea. And I knew it was a bad idea, but I was going stir crazy, and I just… couldn’t help it. I’m… I’m sorry, Cas.”

“Don’t be,” Castiel said. “It wasn’t your fault. Not entirely, I mean. Until Sam is fully integrated back into our reality, the temporal displacement we have experienced will continue trying to pull us back into believing Sam had never existed. Us retaining those memories is as much of an anomaly for our reality as Sam being back after he ceased to exist. And it fights to eliminate such anomalies.”

“As much as I love walking in on your intimate moments, it’s really not a good time.”

Gabriel appeared next to them so suddenly that Dean barely managed not to flinch. He was gesticulating wildly as he spoke, and the words seemed to tumble out of his mouth at a thousand miles per hour.

“Cassie, I need you to monitor the hourglass power levels. Dean-o, you need to start talking to your baby bro, just the way you used to all this time. Come on, move it, we haven’t got all day. I need you two in Sam’s room. We’re pulling him out. _Now._ ”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but the next moment he found himself in a chair by his brother’s bed, and he reached out immediately, grabbing Sam’s hand.

“Hey, Sammy, it’s me, Dean. Can you wake up? Can you hear me? I’m sure you can, Sammy, can you please wake up?”

Dean glanced over his shoulder, looking at Gabriel questioningly, and he waved his hand impatiently, prompting him to continue.

“Come on, Sammy, come back to me, you hear me? Wake up, Sam, we’re all here, we’re waiting for you. I know that you’re strong, Sam, you can fight your way through this, if anyone can do this it’s you! Wake up, Sammy, please. Open your eyes. Look at me, Sam! Wake up!”

Suddenly the room was flooded with bright golden light, and Dean snapped his eyes closed on instinct. After a moment the light was gone and he immediately opened his eyes, staring at his brother apprehensively.

“Sammy, can you hear me? Sam? Can you open your eyes for me, Sam, please? Sam? Sam?!”

Slowly, very slow, Sam’s eyelids fluttered, and he opened his eyes, blinking at the light. His gaze traveled around the room, doing a full circle before settling back on Dean, who was still holding his hand.

He frowned, looking at Dean, as if he were trying to figure out what was going on, and when he spoke, his voice sounded just as confused as his face looked.

“Who… are you? And who… is… Sam?”


	5. Chapter 5

_Cold._

_He was so very cold._

_It wasn’t that his body was cold; at that point he didn’t have a body that could experience any physical discomfort. There simply was no need for a vessel, so he didn’t have one._

_But he could still feel. And all he could feel was cold, and loneliness, and despair. He kept asking himself over and over again, the question echoing within him: why? Why did he do it? Why did he run, again? What was the point and what purpose did he have now? Wouldn’t it have been better to stay there, to hold on to what he had for a few more seconds and then cease to exist, just like the rest of his world did, instead of becoming the only remaining bit of it out here?_

_He had no answers to those questions, yet he kept going over them in a circle every time he was left alone with himself. Sure, there were… others. They found him, dazed and confused after his grand escape out of the collapsing universe, and treated him as one of them (which he was, in fact, it was just that he hadn’t had a chance to test out his skills in that area before), and showed him how things worked, and what opportunities were there for him._

_And yes, it did put things into perspective. He was fascinated and enthralled, seeing and doing things that he never even deemed possible before, getting lost in them just like a child would be lost in a new game. But the novelty of his current… circumstances passed after a while; sure, he still had an infinite number of opportunities and things to learn, and he wanted to, but… He couldn’t, just couldn’t find it in him enough to care._

_So he… didn’t really do anything. He was alive, that much he knew for sure. He was alive, not living. But when a certain part of the multiverse (the one he took habit of avoiding for obvious reasons) blinked out of existence, simultaneously shining out brighter than before, he found himself right in the middle of it before he even made the decision to move._

…

He was studying the face of the man who claimed to be his brother, hoping that any second now something would click, and he’d remember it all. Judging by the concerned look on the man’s face (he said his name was Dean, but it didn’t ring any bells), he was hoping for something similar. He was still not completely awake, and his body felt stiff and too heavy, and he had to make effort in order to as much as move his head. He was vaguely aware of the fact that this stranger was still clutching onto his hand, and it felt weird, so he made an attempt to pry his fingers out of the death grip. At first the man seemed confused, but then the realization dawned on him, and his face looked hurt for a brief moment before turning all guilty and apologetic as he let go of his hand.

He moved his now free hand onto his chest and closed his eyes, trying to focus on the situation he found himself in. His name. He had to have a name, right? Everybody had one; that much he knew, but no matter how hard he tried to dig deeper into his memory, he came up absolutely blank. He briefly considered the idea that he might have been kidnapped and drugged for whatever reason, but quickly tossed it aside. The man – Dean – seemed to be genuinely happy to see him come to, and really concerned and upset when he couldn’t remember him – or his own name. He simply couldn’t be some psycho serial killer type. He didn’t look the part.

So that left him with one option, really. Dean was telling the truth. His name was Sam, Dean was his brother and he didn’t remember any of it. Pretty much like the rest of his life.

He ran a hand over his face, noticing that the motion felt familiar and a little weird at the same time. The feeling of his body and his surroundings was slowly returning to him, and he remembered that there were some other people in the room when he woke up. Now he could hear them talking in hushed tones, but their voices were too quiet to make out what they were saying. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes once more.

“Hey, uh… Dean?”

Dean was back at his side in an instant.

“Sam? Do you-”

“Look, I… I thought about this and… I think I’m going to stick with what you told me. You say that you know me, and I’ve got no other option but to believe you. Because I don’t. Know me, that is. So, if you say that my name is Sam, then let’s roll with that.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, first off, we’ll have to get you back on your feet and make sure that your body works properly, you did spend over a month in this bed after all. And then,” Dean glared at Gabriel, “we’ll see if the douchebag arch-”

“Now, now, there’s no need to get personal, is there, _Dean?_ ”

Gabriel made a quick gesture, shutting Dean up mid-sentence and all but yelled straight into his skull: _“Are you completely out of your mind, dumbass? What are you gonna tell him about next? How he spent nobody knows how long in the pit with Luci so that you could avert the apocalypse? He doesn’t remember anything from his life, how do you think he’d react? Just please, please don’t make this worse than it already is, shut your cakehole and let me do the talking, will ya?”_

He walked up to the other side of Sam’s bed, watching Dean out of the corner of his eye. Dean’s expression shifted into some sort of understanding, but he decided to keep him on mute for a little longer, just in case.

“Hey Sam, you probably don’t remember me, just like anything else in here, really, but we’ll see if we can fix that, okay?”

Gabriel’s tone was bright and chipper, and he was smiling widely as he spoke, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Sam was looking at him, frowning, as if he was trying really hard to remember something that wasn’t quite there yet.

“Who… are you?”

“I’m a friend, Sam. Just a friend who might be able to help you remember.”

Gabriel reached out and brushed a strand of hair off Sam’s forehead. Sam looked up at him, blinking slowly as his eyes began to droop.

“Will you let me do that for you, kiddo?”

“I think… I think I… know you. I don’t remember you, but… yeah… okay…”

As soon as Sam’s eyes fell shut, Gabriel turned to face Dean, waving his hand to unmute him.

“Okay, now you can say whatever you wanted to say, he won’t wake up for at least a couple of hours. Although scratch that, I still have a lot of work to do, so would you please be so kind as to go and sit in the corner or something?”

Dean was staring at him, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of the water. Castiel made a feeble attempt to stir him out of the room before he said anything, but he twisted his shoulder out of Castiel’s grip and stomped his way up to Gabriel, looming over him.

“Wait, hold on a minute. He… he just said he knew you? How come he knows you but doesn’t remember his own brother? Did you do something to him? This whole amnesia thing, was it on purpose?”

“And we’re back to square one – thinking I’m the bad guy!”

Gabriel sighed and shook his head in disbelief, staring Dean down with accusing eyes.

“Really, Dean-o? After all this time I’ve spent here rebuilding your baby bro from scratch you still have it in you to doubt me? After I tracked your sorry ass down and _talked you_ into getting your memories back? And you think I did this? For the love of everything, why do you think I would do that?!”

“How the hell should I know! It’s not like we’ve been the best of pals this past month, or had long heart-to-heart conversations on _why exactly you’re doing this_ , so excuse me for thinking that it’s some kind of an elaborate scheme of yours to mess with us again!”

“You’re still on about _that?_ I told you I wasn’t gonna – oh, you know what? Fine!”

Gabriel threw his hands up in the air.

“I brought your brother back, just as promised, so I see no point in dragging this out any longer. He’ll be awake in a couple of hours, and best of luck to you with trying to make him remember his entire life!”

Gabriel glared at him one more time and disappeared with a snap. Dean let out a breath he drew half a second ago to yell at the archangel some more. The sudden silence that filled the room was deafening. Castiel cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Dean, I-”

“Not a word, Cas. Not a word.”

Dean pushed past him, getting out of the door and walking to his own room, slamming the door shut with the force of a sledgehammer, the sound echoing through the empty halls of the bunker.

…

_After all, there wasn’t a decision to make. Not really._

_When he saw Sam, or rather what was left of him, he couldn’t just move along, going about wasting his personal eternity as if nothing happened. He was well aware that this Sam was different from the one he used to know, but it was still Sam. And Sam… well, Sam deserved every chance there was to keep going, and if he happened to be that chance – he knew he would do pretty much anything to make it work._

_So he set to work, collecting bits and pieces smaller than stardust, scattered across everywhere and everywhen, and made his way back into the reality that Sam belonged to._

_And kept going._

_It wasn’t a very difficult task, it was just… different, and that was where the things he learned came into the picture. And it would have been boring, if it wasn’t so fascinating._

_He felt closest to being alive since his escape, despite the fact that he had to remind himself not to get attached. Not that he was, not really; he knew that this Sam was a different person. He was simply doing his best to help. If there was a human being that deserved to live their life to its full potential, it was Sam Winchester._

…

There was a knock on his door before the handle turned and Castiel looked inside, hesitant to come in.

“Dean, we need to talk.”

“Is Sammy okay?”

“Yes, Dean, he is still sleeping, and will be for another hour or so. I… checked up on him. When you left.”

“And? Can you fix him?”

“It’s… beyond my abilities, I’m afraid. His soul has been shattered and then put back together, you know that much. But what I found out is that this process is still incomplete. He woke up too soon.”

“Too soon? Are you trying to tell me that dickhead pulled him out early because he got bored or something?”

“No, as far as I could tell, it was quite the opposite. Sam was… impatient, and if Gabriel didn’t pull him out when he did, we might have lost him.”

Dean didn’t say anything at first, gritting his teeth and staring at the wall. Castiel kept silent as well, trying to find the best words for what he was about to say next. He shuffled in place and sighed.

“Come on, Cas, out with it already. What was that you were going to tell me, huh? That we still need the douchebag in order to save Sam?”

Castiel simply nodded.

“And what do you want _me_ to do about it? _Pray_ to him, ask him to come back? ‘Cause you know I ain’t gonna do that.”

“No, Dean, I’m not asking you to do that. I already tried contacting him, and to no avail. Gabriel is not here, and nobody can reach him, just like when he went away to collect pieces of Sam’s soul. I believe that’s where he is now.”

“I don’t give two craps to his whereabouts. I’m just glad that he’s not here.”

“Dean, I don’t think we can help Sam on our own.”

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to give it a try. It’s not like we’ve got much of a choice after all. The douchebag’s gone, and honestly? I’m glad that he bailed on us now, when we at least know that Sam isn’t in a coma any longer, and not before. It’s like he said: he did as he promised, and the rest is up to us. Sammy is strong, and he can pull through, I just know it. So why don’t you go back in there and try once more? See if maybe you missed something, maybe there’s something you can do to help him?”

“And what if… I can’t?”

“Then we make sure we do our best to get him back on his feet. Right now you and I are the best chance he’s got. Hell, the _only_ chance he’s got. So, can you give it a try? Please, Cas?”

Castiel looked as if he was going to say something, but then changed his mind. He sighed, staring at Dean in his usual solemn manner, unblinking, for a few long moments before speaking up again.

“Okay. I’ll give it a try.”

…

_He was way beyond angry. He was outraged._

_He flung himself into the farthest part of the multiverse that was possible, cursing those stupid stubborn Winchesters: Sam’s idiotic impatience and inability to get a grip on himself and wait just a little bit longer to be perfectly fine and healthy, Dean’s overbearing protectiveness towards his little brother that was borderline paranoid, and everything in between._

_He wanted to punch something, but there wasn’t anything around, so he created a wall and slammed his fists into it, over and over again, not really feeling anything, but letting his vessel take control of the situation, channeling his rage into those punches until it slowly began to seep out of him. After a while he felt a little… not better, but calmer and more coherent at least. Huh. It looked like human ways of coping with intense emotions worked. Who knew._

_He let the wall disappear with a flick of his wrist, slightly at a loss as to what to do next. He wasn’t sure there was much to be done in the first place, but some part of him refused to accept that, nagging at him, telling him that the work has not been finished. He tried to argue with it, with himself, telling it that it wasn’t his fault that Sam was so stubborn and impatient to get out when he had to stay put. **Yeah, sure,** said the voice inside him, **but did you explain any of it to him while you still could? Nope, you didn’t, so whose fault is that?**_

_He told his inner voice to can it and curled up on himself, sulking. He did his best to avoid any thinking at all, immersing into a state as close to slumber as he could get, given the circumstances. But just as he felt the pleasant numbness envelope him, there was something different altogether._

_A tug._

_It was barely there, and he was just about to brush it off as something his mind made up, when he felt it again, a little more insistent this time. He followed the trail it left in its wake, and found himself back in the part of the multiverse that he knew all too well. The trail led straight into the reality he left just a little while ago. Straight to Sam._

_He was puzzled and a little concerned. Okay, a lot concerned. He looked closer, not letting it drag him in just yet. **Well,** the voice inside him piped up again, **let’s make it really, really concerned, shall we? So quit acting like you don’t care and get in there already!**_

…

Castiel walked back to Sam’s room, opening and closing the door without making any noise. Sam mumbled something in his sleep, frowning and turning to his side, hugging the pillow close to his body. Castiel came up to the bed and hesitantly reached out a hand towards Sam’s forehead.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Cassie.”

Castiel let his hand drop, looking up to find Gabriel standing by the other side of the bed. Gabriel’s voice was calm and even, not a hint of anger from his outburst before left in it. He sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on Sam’s shoulder, making him relax almost immediately.

“Gabriel. Is there… anything wrong?”

“Well, I’m not sure about wrong, but something’s definitely _not right_ , if you catch my drift.”

Gabriel attempted a smirk, but gave up halfway through. Castiel frowned.

“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know if I can pull this one off!”

“Gabriel, what you did was… Nobody could do that. But you did.”

“Yeah, well.” Gabriel winced. “Turns out I didn’t make such a great job of it, did I?”

“You did your best,” Castiel said softly. “You nearly accomplished the impossible. And there’s still a chance, right?”

“Not a good one, Cassie.”

Gabriel shook his head, looking down at Sam’s face.

“You’re still the best chance he’s got.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

They both fell silent for a while, the only sound in the room coming from Sam breathing and occasionally stirring in his sleep.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you… how did you survive? Lucifer-”

“I didn’t.”

“Oh. I see. Did… God bring you back?”

“Nope.”

“I figured as much.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“You’re way more perceptive than I thought you’d be,” Gabriel said, looking up to stare at Castiel with a somewhat bemused expression on his face. “What was my tell?”

Castiel shrugged.

“Little things. The ones I couldn’t really put my finger on, until it all clicked into place. The artifact, for one.”

“Ah, yes. I thought it might make you suspicious, but there weren’t too many options, you know.”

There was a pause before Gabriel spoke up again.

“Will you tell Dean about this?”

“It’s not my secret to share. I think I’ll leave it entirely up to you.”

“Thanks, bro. That is, if you don’t mind me calling you that.”

“No, brother. I don’t mind that at all.”

Castiel’s voice was warm and sincere, and the corners of his mouth quirked up just a little. Gabriel grinned at him, shifting back into his self-confident personality in a blink of an eye.

“Okay then. If there’s a fight, then we’re gonna fight it, and to hell with poor chances! We’re gonna make it work. This reality is a stubborn bitch, but I bet it can’t out-stubborn the Winchesters, huh? What do you say, Cassie? You with me on this one?”

“Yes. Yes, Gabriel, I will do anything I can to help.”

“Ah, that’s the spirit! Now, I’m thinking-”

Gabriel paused, pulling the hourglass out of his pocket and holding it close to his face.

“Oh, yes, half an hour should do it. Dean-o sure is gonna flip, but I might have an idea on how we can fix that. Don’t tell him anything yet, just make sure you bring him to the garage in half an hour. Tell him you’ve got something to show him. Think you can manage that?”

“Of course.”

“Great! Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

He waved his hand towards the door, and Castiel nodded, walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

Gabriel turned his attention back to Sam, placing the hourglass on the bedside table. It began to glow as soon as the first grains of sand touched the bottom of its empty half. He reached out a hand, letting his fingers run through Sam’s hair. Just this once.

“Well, let’s get you back into one piece again, huh? Whaddya say, Sammy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two bits of fluff on a chapter of angst -  
>  ~~...Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!~~ IM SORRY! %))


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> few things are more satisfying than Gabriel's theatrics and Dean's lousy comebacks  
> amazing art by [Iggy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Igglepuff/pseuds/Igglepuff) (and this bit really belongs to this chapter but I embedded it before bc I just like it so much)

_ _

 

_He was standing on an endless beach that looked oddly familiar. The sun was beaming down from a blue cloudless sky, shards of reflected light dancing on the water, making him squint and look away. Odd bits and pieces were strewn all over the sand as far as he could see: driftwood, broken shells, pebbles, some unidentifiable plastic objects tied together with string and seaweed, bottle caps, pieces of glass polished off by the waves - all the stuff that was usually dragged from the ocean bed by the storm. He took a couple of steps forward until something made him stop. He looked down and saw a plastic toy soldier half-buried in the sand. He picked it up and that was when he noticed it: a glowing orb of golden light that hung low above the ground without any visible support a few steps ahead of him._

_It’s a dream, he thought. Just a dream._

_He walked up to the orb and reached out the hand that was still holding the toy soldier towards it. He didn’t know why he did it, but it was a very strong urge, one that he couldn’t, and didn’t want to resist. The soldier slipped out of his fingers and flew to the orb, as if it was magnetized by it somehow. It stuck to a certain point, and he realized that the orb was slowly turning around. His feet started moving again, and he was several steps away from the orb before he even realized that he was walking. He stopped, not sure where he was going, or what he was supposed to do next._

_“You’re thinking about it too much,” came the familiar voice from behind him._

_He turned to see the man from earlier, from the real world, the one that said he was a friend and was there to help him. What was he doing in his dream? How was it even possible if he couldn’t as much as remember the guy’s name? He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head and muttering under his breath, telling himself to wake up._

_Suddenly two hands were clasped firmly onto his forearms._

_“Breathe, Sam. Take a deep breath; can you do that for me?”_

_He nodded, breathing in and letting the air out in a long, slow flow. He took several more breaths until he was calm enough to open his eyes again. He looked at the man, who let go of his arms and was now looking at him, eyebrow raised, half a smile playing at his lips._

_“Better?” the man asked._

_He nodded again._

_“As I said, you’re thinking too much. Don’t. You’ve got this… this gut feeling, so all you have to do here is simply listen to it and make it guide you. Don’t worry, you won’t make any mistakes, it’s impossible at the moment. And this time it should be much easier than before, we’ve got the whole core assembled after all.”_

_The man pointed at the glowing orb behind them, grinning brightly._

_“This time? What do you mean, this time? There was some other time? How’s that even possible, I mean – I’m dreaming, right? And for whatever odd reason you are in my dream, even though I don’t remember your name – or anyone’s name, including my own!”_

_“Hey. Remember, you’ve got to stay calm. So deep breaths, yeah? I know that none of it makes sense to you right now, but it will, I promise you it will, once you start remembering. And yes, you can say that you are dreaming, though technically it’s not exactly true, but let’s skip the details for now, okay?”_

_He shook his head, staring the man dead in the eye._

_“No. Not okay. This isn’t gonna work like this, and I’ve no idea how I know this, but I do, and I know that you can feel it too. You have to explain what’s going on in here, what’s going on with me. And then we’ll see about that ‘follow your gut’ thing you’ve been talking about. So, spill.”_

_The man pushed his hands through his hair in exasperation, shaking his head._

_“Would you please just listen to me? We can’t waste time on this, not right now! We have to work on making you feel better, or the whole thing might blow up in our faces!”_

_He shook his head once more, and it wasn’t out of pure stubbornness. This man, whoever he was, told him to follow his instinct, and that was what his instinct was telling him to do. He had to know. The man sighed, rubbing his face tiredly._

_“Look, Sammy, this is pointless, it’s taking us nowhere. Besides, it’s not like you’re gonna believe me anyway. You’re gonna freak out, and then everything will get much, much worse, so please, can you trust me on this one? Please?”_

_“I’m in a dream that is not exactly a dream, with a guy whom I cannot remember, but have a feeling that I know and trust him, even though I don’t remember where that feeling comes from, and I can’t wake up no matter how hard I try. Do you really think that whatever there is you’re refusing to tell me would freak me out much more than this? I’m as freaked out as I can be, and yet here I am, holding my shit together, talking to you. I’d say I deserve a little credit for that, don’t you think?”_

_The man rolled his eyes and sighed again._

_“Fine. It does sound reasonable when you put it like that. But I’m not gonna just stand here and dump the entire thing onto your head. Ask your questions, and I promise I will tell you the truth.”_

_He couldn’t help but smile triumphantly at that, making the man roll his eyes again, and he wasn’t sure why, but the look of extreme annoyance on the guy’s face brought upon a fit of giggles that he could barely contain. The man didn’t say anything, choosing to glare daggers at him instead, and he started taking deep breaths again in order to calm down._

_“Okay. So, my first question is: what’s your name?”_

_“Well, that’s the easiest of them all, but I would really like you to drop it, if that’s possible. And this is not me being a dick, honestly, it’s just better if you remember it on your own. It could, you know, make the whole amnesia thing go away faster.”_

_“But I already know my name and my brother’s name, and I didn’t remember either of those, I still don’t really remember them, in fact, so I don’t see the point of you withholding yours. I doubt it would make such a difference. And what is it with you and names anyway? You’ve been asking me what my name was for ages-”_

_He stopped abruptly, eyes going wide in shock._

_“I… I just remembered this, I was here and I was… doing something, and you kept popping up and asking me for my name! How did I remember this?”_

_The man just grinned at him, pointing at something behind his back. He turned to see the glowing orb in the same spot that it was before, and at first he didn’t realize that something was missing, but then it hit him: there was no toy soldier stuck to it any longer._

_“Did it… did it fall off or something?”_

_“Nope. It got absorbed.”_

_“And you’re trying to tell me that it has something to do with me remembering stuff?”_

_The man simply nodded._

_“Okay, but… what is this thing anyway?”_

_“Ugh… Well, there’s no easy way to put this, so I’m just gonna say it as it is: it’s you.”_

_“What do you mean? How can it be me, if I’m standing right in front of it?”_

_“It’s a visual representation. Right now we are inside a construct of your mind, and this,” he pointed at the orb again, “represents you. Your personality, your soul, basically everything what makes you, well, **you** , is right here. Your mind chose to visualize it as a separate object because it was easier for you to work on putting it back together this way. Think of it as a user-friendly interface.”_

_The man held a pause, letting him take it all in. He willed himself to take deep, even breaths, concentrating on the sound of air rushing out of his lungs, briefly wondering why those deep breaths seemed to have a calming effect on him, seeing as he was in his own mind at the moment and most likely didn’t need to breathe at all._

_“Okay. Okay. I have to admit, this does sound like a whole load of crap, and under any other circumstances I would have told you that you were completely insane. But.” He held up a finger and took a deep breath. “But it actually does make sense. Not in any reasonable way, but my instinct tells me that it’s true, and right now, according to you, my instinct is the only thing I can go by. So, if my entire personality, along with my soul and everything else, needs to be rebuilt on a level this deep, I think I won’t be exaggerating if I say that I fucked up big time, bringing this onto myself. So, tell me. What did I do?”_

_“Well, in your defense, you were trying to save your brother when it happened, so I can’t say that it was entirely your fault. But you definitely got the worst of it. You were literally blown to pieces. And if you stayed that way, it would have been worse than dying. That’s why I… I couldn’t just let you disappear. There was a chance, and it was tiny, but it was there, so I took it and here you are, walking and talking again – well, not walking yet, but you soon will be, I’m sure of that.”_

_They both fell silent for a while, and he began to walk absent-mindedly, not really bothering to ask himself why he was doing that, it just… felt the right thing to do. All the answers he got from the man left him with more questions, but all of a sudden they didn’t bother him any longer. He stopped and bent down to pick up a pebble, a piece of driftwood and a shell, and turned to go back to the orb._

_As he approached, the man spoke up, startling him out of his trance._

_“Gabriel. I’m – my name is Gabriel. I’ve figured that you might be right about me sticking to the name thing a bit too much, so…”_

_He blinked several times, staring down at the objects he still had in his hand, not quite sure now what to do with them._

_“Go on.” Gabriel gently nudged him towards the orb. “Just get them close. See what happens.”_

_He did as he was told, and just like the toy soldier, the objects slipped out of his hand one by one, in the same order as he picked them up: the pebble, the piece of driftwood, the shell. Suddenly he felt very tired, and sank down onto the sand, looking at the slowly turning orb. Gabriel plopped down onto the sand next to him, grinning from ear to ear. He couldn’t help but smile back._

_“Now what?”_

_“Now we wait, Sammy.”_

_“Till they get absorbed?”_

_“Yep, and see what bits of memory they bring back to you. Told you it would be easy.”_

_“Yeah well, if it’s so easy then why do I feel like crap all of a sudden?”_

_Gabriel frowned and turned to stare at him, bringing a hand up to touch his forehead._

_“It’s probably the whole not-freaking-out thing. Took too much outta ya. We better get you back to sleep now.”_

_Gabriel’s hand was cool and soft, and it felt nice on his suddenly-too-warm forehead. He closed his eyes, half-slipping out of consciousness, until he felt Gabriel shake him awake._

_“Not here, kiddo. Can’t fall asleep here. Hang on for a few more seconds, okay? I’m getting us both out of here.”_

_He heard a snap, and all of the weight on his shoulders was gone, and he was floating into blissful nothingness, and the last thing he heard before drifting away was Gabriel’s voice, telling him that it was okay to go to sleep now._

…

 

Gabriel picked the hourglass from the bedside table and carefully tucked it into his pocket. He stretched, yawning, and looked down at Sam, whose face was relaxed and peaceful in his sleep. Gabriel smiled, nodding to himself. _No more nightmares for you, kiddo,_ he thought. _Not on my watch._

Yep, he did good. They both did, thanks to Sam’s intuition helping him choose the right way to go about rebuilding himself yet again. Now that the most difficult part was done, Gabriel couldn’t help but feel relieved and a little – okay, a lot – proud of himself. And of Sam, of course. He was proud of Sam too. Sam was amazing, and he strongly suspected that it was true in every universe that was lucky enough to have a Sam Winchester in it, simply going about his life, doing what he did best – helping people. Sam had a selfless, compassionate soul; a soul that could outshine a thousand suns. There was nothing he wouldn’t give to admire its beautiful light for a little longer; even if it wasn’t _his Sam’s_ soul, it still was just as bright.

He was shaken out of his thoughts (just in time, thankfully, as they were rolling in the direction he preferred them not to) when he heard footsteps past the door to Sam’s room, heading down the corridor, and voices: Dean’s reluctant and grumbling, and Castiel’s calm and reassuring. _Ah,_ Gabriel thought, _finally! Time for some quality entertainment!_

He chuckled and snapped himself away from Sam’s room and straight into the bunker garage, landing precisely on the hood of the Impala and striking a _‘draw me like one of your French girls’_ pose. He heard the footsteps approaching and shifted a little in anticipation. Oh, this was gonna be _hilarious._

The door opened and the two main participants of the show walked in, Castiel still talking, saying something to Dean who was listening to him intently and, therefore, looking at him, and not at his beloved car that was currently starring as a comfy couch for Gabriel’s glorious comeback.

Gabriel decided that it was a perfect moment to start the show.

“Hey, Dean-o! Long time no see!”

Oh, it was so worth it. Dean whipped his head around at the sound of Gabriel’s voice, and when he actually _saw_ Gabriel, or, rather, _where_ Gabriel was lounging… he froze in place, mouth hanging open, eyes bulging out and face slowly turning red. All in all, he looked almost like a cartoon character that was about to explode. Perfect. Gabriel couldn’t have played that part better himself.

Castiel was staring at them both, frowning and obviously disapproving of their childish behavior. He didn’t say anything, but the phrase ‘I am done with your shit’ was so clearly written on his face that it might as well be painted across his forehead in bright red block letters.

After a few long moments Dean managed to will his mouth closed before attempting to say something, but started coughing and spluttering instead. For a second Gabriel thought that he was having a panic attack, but discarded this idea as soon as Dean stopped making those horrible noises, clenched his fists and began advancing on him. Dean was okay. Just very, very angry.

Gabriel drew a mental line a couple of feet in front of the car, deciding suddenly that he wasn’t going to immobilize the Dumbchester, but see whether he had it in him to try for the voice of reason in a situation like this. To his utter surprise, Dean did stop before he reached Gabriel’s invisible barrier.

“GABRIEL! GET THE FUCK OFF MY CAR!”

Okay, more like the _roar_ of reason then, but Gabriel was always ready to give credit when it was due. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head, staring at Dean with an amused smile.

“Wow, Dean-o, colour me impressed! You are handling this way better than I expected!”

“Oh, really? Just you wait till my boot handles your ass out of here, you asshole!”

“And how exactly,” Gabriel drawled with a slow, lazy smirk, “are you planning to do that, huh? Archangel, remember, dumbass?”

Dean took a couple of steps towards him and bumped face first into the barrier. However, Gabriel was disappointed with the outcome, for it looked almost like Dean was _expecting_ a very bouncy invisible wall around Gabriel, and instead of flailing and falling backwards, like Gabriel had intended him to, he managed to remain on his feet, taking just one step back. _Damn,_ Gabriel thought, _is he getting smarter by the minute or am I that predictable?_

He stretched and changed his position, sitting up with his legs crossed, giving off his best ‘bored and uninterested’ look. Dean was practically fuming, but there was nothing he could do to Gabriel at the moment, so he turned his attention to the only other person in the room: Castiel.

“This? This is what you were gonna show me, Cas? Did that douchebag manage to talk you into believing that it would be funny? Well, I’ve got news for you, buddy: it’s not fucking funny!”

“No, Dean, I don’t find it funny at all.” Castiel sounded apologetic. “However, Gabriel did tell me that he wanted to share some important information with you, and he asked me to bring you here. And I would never have agreed to it if I realized that he was aiming at pulling yet another prank on you. I’m sorry. I was foolish enough to believe that he was being sincere. It won’t happen again.”

“Ooh, you wound me, Cassie!” Gabriel exclaimed, clutching a hand to his chest. “And I thought we were having a bonding moment back there!”

Castiel narrowed his eyes and glared at Gabriel.

“I thought so too, brother. But I was wrong.”

“I never pegged you as a jumping to conclusions type, Cassie. Won’t you at least listen to what I have to say here first?”

“You haven’t said anything relevant so far, Gabriel. Why would I think that you are about to do it now?”

A smug smile appeared on Gabriel’s face.

“Ah, but you’re forgetting something, baby bro! _I do everything for a reason._ ”

Gabriel didn’t wait for his reply, turning to Dean.

“Take this little display, for example.” Gabriel pointed at himself, still perched on the Impala. “What does it tell us?”

“That you’re an asshole!”

“My point exactly! You sure are smarter than you look, Dean-o! Yes, I’m an asshole. And I do all sorts of asshole things when I’m bored, for I find people getting pissed over some dumb insignificant shit extremely entertaining. I know that people find this particular trait of mine annoying. I get on everyone’s nerves; that’s what I do best. Hell, I even get on Cassie’s nerves sometimes, though he does a fine job of not showing it. Most of the time, anyway.”

Suddenly Gabriel jumped off the car, his smirk gone. He walked up to Dean, leveling him with a hard stare.

“But that doesn’t mean that everything is a joke for me. When I say something is important, I mean it. And when I say that getting your brother back is important for me, _I mean it._ ”

Dean threw his hands up and began pacing.

“How the hell should I know that, huh? You ain’t exactly a chatterbox when it comes to the real reasons you are helping us in the first place! You always avoid this topic and worm your way out of it!”

“As I said, Dean-o, I always do things for a reason.”

Gabriel looked away, his voice tinged with sadness. He kept silent for a beat and cleared his throat before speaking up again.

“Anyway, there is a reason why I asked Cassie to bring you here. There’s something you both need to see.”

Gabriel made an inviting gesture towards the car. Dean looked between him and the car, frowning in confusion.

“What am I looking for here exactly?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“Not here, dumbo. Inside the car. In the back seat, under the windshield.”

“If you messed with my car, Gabriel, I’m gonna tear you a new one!”

Dean practically growled, jabbing a finger into Gabriel’s chest as he spoke. Gabriel let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes again.

“Would ya chill about that already? I didn’t lay a finger on your precious car! Just my equally precious butt!”

And Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows, making Dean groan in frustration.

“Don’t, just – don’t. Or I swear to God I’m gonna glue your ‘precious butt’ to the ceiling!”

“The first rule of a successful prankster, bucko, is never to inform your opponent about your pranking intentions. Might give them ideas, ya know.”

Gabriel watched Dean huff in irritation as he was desperately scrambling his brain for a decent comeback. Messing with Dean just never got old.

“Dean? I think you should see this.”

Castiel’s voice came out muffled, seeing as he was already in the back seat of the Impala. He must have grown tired of their bickering and went to investigate. Dean jumped at the opportunity to get away from Gabriel’s escapades, throwing him a ‘this is not over’ look before turning to the car and fleeing the scene. Gabriel smiled triumphantly before following him.

…

Dean climbed into the back seat, finding that Castiel flipped over the leather under the windshield and was now staring at the initials carved there, his face scrunched up in concern.

“What is it that I needed to see here, Cas? Everything looks just fine to me.”

“Touch it,” Gabriel said, leaning into the car from Castiel’s side.

Dean stared at him suspiciously.

“Why would _you_ want me to touch it?”

“Come on, Dean-o! This is my serious face, scout’s honour! Touch it and you’ll see what got Cassie all frowny here.”

Dean hesitantly reached out a hand, still half expecting it to be glued to the surface once he touched it, but it didn’t happen. He traced his fingers over his own initials first, not noticing that anything was off. But as soon as his fingers moved to the S.W., he frowned. He could clearly see that the initials were etched into the car, carved in deeply, just like his were, but his hand was tracing a completely flat, smooth surface instead of the grooves that should be forming the two letters of Sam’s initials.

“How is that even possible?”

Dean got out of the car and was now looking at Gabriel, who stood up and moved over, so that Castiel was able to get out of the car as well.

“That,” Gabriel said, suddenly serious again, “is what I wanted to talk to you about. Among other things. That is why I came back.”

Gabriel paused, staring into a spot somewhere behind Dean’s back, and he had to fight the urge to turn around and see what Gabriel was looking at. He cleared his throat, prompting Gabriel to shift his gaze to him, and shivered under the hard stare.

“Care to elaborate on that?”

“Sure thing, Dean-o. That’s what I’m here for, right?”

Gabriel blinked and looked away, and Dean felt as if a heavy weight was lifted off his shoulders as soon as his stare was gone.

“Thing is,” Gabriel began reluctantly, “thing is that bringing your brother back is the first time I’ve done something like that. It’s the first time that _anyone’s_ done something like that as far as I know, and believe me, I know a lot. So, I’m kinda figuring it all out as I go, and… with me here, chances that Sam has are pretty slim. But he wouldn’t have any chances at all otherwise.”

Dean wanted to say something, but Castiel squeezed his shoulder and shook his head when Dean glanced back at him. He hesitated, but kept silent. Something was different about Gabriel this time, and Dean was surprised to realize that it was the most sincere of Gabriel he’d ever seen.

“And I get it, really, I do. This whole thing about you not trusting me, and questioning my intentions, and my pulling pranks on you and all that jazz. But here’s the thing, and I want you to think about it, and I mean _really_ think about it before you answer this. In a hypothetical situation, where you have to tolerate a sarcastic asshole for over a month on a daily basis for the sake of saving your brother, would you still be as suspicious and intolerant of said sarcastic asshole as you were on day one, provided that he was true to his word and was indeed doing his best to get your brother out of danger?”

Dean opened his mouth to retort, to tell Gabriel that he could never really know what exactly he was doing to his brother, so there was no way he could know whether Gabriel really did something or was just messing with them, as usual; but he didn’t say any of this, closing his mouth, as he felt something, some shadow of a thought slipping away from his grip, and suddenly he felt very dizzy and had to grab onto the car to steady himself.

At that very moment Gabriel appeared by his side, placing two fingers onto his forehead. The world around him stopped spinning immediately, and he was able to think clearly once again. Gabriel nodded at him, and he realized he didn’t need to say it out loud: Gabriel was right.

“I think I caught it just right with you, so my guess is that I can do it for myself now.” Gabriel paused, frowning in concentration for a couple of seconds and then turning to look at Castiel. “And Cassie, too. Do you mind, brother?”

Castiel simply nodded for him to continue, and Gabriel touched his forehead as well.

The three of them fell silent for a while, each immersed in their own thoughts. Dean was the first to break the silence.

“Idiot,” he muttered, running a hand over his face. “I’m such an idiot, aren’t I? Gabriel, shit, I’m – I’m sorry, okay?”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, bucko. I mean, I was no better than you, running off when my work was nowhere near done just because you were ungrateful and hurt my feelings!” Gabriel snorted at his own words. “ _Hurt my feelings,_ I can’t believe I fell for that! And if it wasn’t for Sam, I wouldn’t even be here now, and I don’t even want to think about what could have happened then!”

“What do you mean – if it wasn’t for Sam?”

“He was able to… reach out to me, somehow. I didn’t think it was possible; not where I was at that moment. But yeah, he did, and here I am, with yet another trick of this stubborn reality sorted out. See, Cassie? I told you that this bitch can’t out-stubborn the Winchesters!”

“Yes, Gabriel, you did, and I am happy to say that you were right about that.”

“Wait, wait, do you mind filling me in on this one, fellas? What does the reality have to do with all this and why is it a stubborn bitch?”

“It has everything to do with this, as it is still trying to push Sammy out. You and Cassie not remembering Sam was the first – and the most obvious – level of the reality readjusting itself; the temporal displacement that could be gotten rid of quite easily. And I thought that was it, that I could just get on with getting Sam back into one piece and everything would be peachy. But the reality turned out to be a stubborn and sneaky bitch, because all of this time it continued to do everything in its power to reject Sam. So, your little hunting adventure, me throwing temper tantrums and running away, Cassie and you not believing a single word that I say – it was all induced by the reality trying to readjust itself. And it’s trying to do that because Sam Winchester is still a possibility, not a fact.”

“And that is why his initials are there and not there at the same time.”

“Yes, exactly! Moreover, now we can use them to test how well Sam is integrated into the reality. As soon as I found this discrepancy, I managed to isolate it, so now the reality thinks it tricked us by fixing it, while it really didn’t. And as soon as Sam’s initials are properly back where they belong, we’ll know that he is fully back.” Gabriel waved his hand at Dean who was about to say something. “Ah, don’t thank me, we’re not there yet.”

“Wasn’t going to,” Dean grumbled. “You’re still an asshole, and I still don’t trust you like I trust Cas or Sam. But I gotta give it to you: you’re here, and you’re trying to help Sam, and that’s all that matters to me.”

Gabriel just laughed at that.

“Don’t worry, Dean-o, I don’t expect you to be all buddy-buddy with me! And I’m well aware of the fact that I’m an asshole, that’s just a part of my charming personality. But I can tell you this: I really want to get Sam back together, simply because it is considered to be impossible, if for no other reason. So think of it as my science project, not some elaborate scheme to eat him alive with chocolate syrup.” Gabriel paused, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Although, when I think about it, it is not actually such a bad idea, I mean, don’t get me wrong, but your brother is one handsome devil!”

Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows, making Dean snort indignantly and shake his head in disgust.

“Dude, I _so_ did not need that mental image!”

Castiel looked between them, confusion clearly written on his face.

“I do not understand, Gabriel. We, as angels, do not require food, so why would you want to eat Sam? And even if you have a sudden craving for human meat, I don’t think it would be very wise of you to kill him after you have spent so much time on bringing him back to life.”

Dean and Gabriel looked at each other and burst out laughing. Castiel simply stood there, watching them both with a small smile.

“Oh, Cassie,” Gabriel managed between the bouts of laughter, “you’re so… so…”

“I believe the term you are looking for, Gabriel, is ‘perfect deadpan technique’.”

Castiel’s smile turned into a smug smirk as both Gabriel and Dean stopped laughing abruptly and were now staring at him incredulously.

“Whoa,” Dean said finally. “That was…”

He seemed unable to finish his thought, waving his hand about helplessly.

“Yep. What he said. Really impressive, baby bro. Didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Late night culinary shows are not the only thing on TV.” Castiel shrugged. “Sometimes I channel surf. And if you’re observant enough, you’re bound to pick up a thing or two about human sense of humour. Among other things.”

“Cassie acquiring a taste for humour,” Gabriel said, shaking his head. “That’s something you don’t see every day!”

“Okay, okay, you both can go for stand-up comedy next time we hold a talent show in the bunker,” Dean grumbled, but he was still smiling a little as he spoke. “And yeah, it feels great to be back to normal, but what’s next? What do we do now?”

“Now, Dean-o, we go and see if your brother is awake.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I bring you a chapter of fluff, domesticity and no pain (almost)  
> Happy Easter! =)

He was slowly drifting out of sleep; still reluctant to wake up properly, still clinging to the dream that was slipping away: something about sunshine and green meadows and picnics in the tall grass; and he could have sworn that he could still taste the strawberries that were in that dream. He felt calm and relaxed, and even though there was no way for him to tell, he suspected that he hadn’t slept that well for a long, long time.

He carefully reached into his mind, trying to see if there was something new, and coming up with a bunch of separate facts that almost made no sense at all. However, that didn’t faze him in the slightest: he couldn’t remember everything yet, but he was sure that once he did, all of those random weird things would make perfect sense to him.

He heard footsteps approaching the door to his room, and sat up in the bed, leaning against the headboard, surprised at how easily he could move now, unlike the first time he woke up. The door opened and the three men from before walked in. Now he was sure he remembered two of them.

When Dean saw that Sam was awake, he froze in the doorway, unsure what to do, and at that moment Gabriel pushed past him and strolled up to the bed, greeting Sam with a cheerful grin.

“Heya, Sammy, how are you feeling?”

“Hey, Gabriel. Okay, I guess.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Did you-”

“Remember you? No, I didn’t. But that weird dream that wasn’t a dream? That I do remember, to the last detail. And now that I think about it, it doesn’t feel like a dream at all.”

“Like I said, that’s because it wasn’t a dream. And whoa, kiddo, that’s some nice memory skills you’re sporting. I was almost certain you wouldn’t remember anything from that experience.”

“Well, my mind is blissfully empty at the moment.” Sam shrugged. “Guess it jumped at the opportunity to have memories, not bothering with being picky.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Gabriel snorted. “I’d even go as far as to say that it would be pretty much typical of your nerdy brains to do something like that.”

Sam threw a perfect bitchface his way and turned to Dean, who still stood in the doorway, leaning against the door frame.

“I do remember you, though. Now I know your name and I know you’re my brother, so you weren’t lying about that. But the memories come back to me in odd and confusing pieces, and so far I’ve no idea what to make of them. For example, I know that you,” he turned and nodded towards Castiel, “are my friend, your name is Castiel and you are an angel.”

Sam paused, watching Castiel’s reaction, but he looked as if what Sam had just said was perfectly normal, giving him a small smile and a nod, and Sam realized that there wouldn’t be any other reaction, not from Castiel, not from the others. And somehow he was ready to bet all of his newfound memories that this was not the weirdest thing about his life. He was pretty sure it didn’t even make the top ten.

Dean cleared his throat.

“What about me then? What did you remember?”

“Oh, that one is pretty weird, actually. We were in some sort of an abandoned warehouse or something, and I was carrying a shotgun, and there was this… cat. In a locker. And you screamed like it was a… a ghost or something.”

“Dude, seriously? Of all the things we’ve been through, _that_ is the first one you remember?”

Dean huffed indignantly, while Gabriel doubled over with laughter.

“Hey, not my fault!” Sam said, stifling giggles. “It’s not like I had a choice and picked this particular memory, you know?”

“To be honest, you kinda did.” Gabriel managed, trying his best to suppress his laughter. “You picked those pieces up after all!”

“Oh come on, it’s not like there was a label attached to them or something!”

“What pieces? What labels? What the hell are you two talking about?”

Sam and Gabriel looked at each other, and Gabriel nodded.

“It’s um… it might sound crazy, but… I was in this dream, that wasn’t really a dream, but, according to Gabriel, a construct made up by my own mind so that I could piece myself back together, bit by bit. And Gabriel was there with me, I’ve no idea how, but he was. And he helped me. Told me what the whole thing was, and what I needed to do, and I was able to remember a tiny bit from before, from when I was doing it for the first time… so anyway, this whole thing looks like a glowing orb suspended in mid-air, and there are pieces strewn all over, all around it, and I picked three of them and placed them into the orb, and when I woke up this time I had those memories. Of you, of Cas, and… I think I remembered mom?”

“What do you mean you remembered mom, you were just a baby when-”

Dean cut himself off mid-sentence, even before Gabriel shot him a warning glare.

“It’s possible, Dean-o. The human mind is an amazing thing. You could even remember being in your mother’s womb if you tried hard enough.”

“Uh, thanks but I’ll pass. Sam? What did you remember about mom?”

“Well, it must be a very early memory, like I was a baby, because everything was so huge and kinda blurry, and she was holding me in her arms and humming something and… and I saw her face, and her eyes… She was so beautiful.”

“Yeah. She was.”

“And then you came into the room, and she called your name and told you to come closer and said that you should meet your little brother. And then I saw you and I recognized you, even though you looked nothing like you look now, but somehow I knew it was you. And that’s it, pretty much all I can remember so far.”

“Whoa, Sammy, that’s… that’s really a lot to take in,” Dean said after a pause. “But it’s a good thing, right? You’re getting your memories back, so there’s a good chance that you’ll get all of them eventually?”

Dean looked at Gabriel, addressing his last question to him as well as Sam, and Gabriel shrugged and nodded at the same time.

“It certainly does look like it, yep. Well, at least I hope that’s what it’s going to be like, and there will be no more… complications. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?”

“Okay, yeah, you’re right. Let’s take it one step at a time. And right now we need to make sure your body didn’t get out of order while you were playing Sleeping Beauty here, so how about you try to get out of bed first and we’ll see how it goes from there?”

“Oh, shut up, jerk! You’re just jealous because you’ve never been able to sleep for longer than four hours a night!”

“Bitch!”

Dean replied automatically, and it took him about five seconds to realize what had just happened. He was standing there, dumbstruck, trying his best not to give in to the hope that his brother might actually pull through this whole ordeal too soon. He smiled at Sam, who was clearly shaken by the fact that he could suddenly catch a glimpse of his true self, and looked like a deer in the headlights while Gabriel performed a quick check-up on him by pressing his fingers to Sam’s forehead. It looked like he didn’t even notice it, immersed in himself, probably trying to get that window into his memory open a little wider.

“Don’t go pushing too hard, Sam.”

Gabriel’s voice was soft and serious as he spoke. He squeezed Sam’s shoulder gently, trying to get him to listen.

“It will all come back to you on its own. There’s no rush, and definitely no need to be too hard on yourself and try to get everything back at once. Let your mind decide when it’s ready, okay? It’s a tricky thing, and I know that you want all of your memories back yesterday, but as much as you need them, your soul still needs to heal, and that takes time. It’s not a sprint, it’s more like a marathon, and you need to keep your pace even in order to get to the finish line, okay?”

“Yeah… Okay, that makes sense. But can you tell me what has just happened exactly? How was I able to get those memories? I’m sure I didn’t have them when I woke up.”

“Well, it’s all about the way memory works. It’s not logical, and definitely not linear. Yes, the events of your life happen to you in a certain order, from the moment you are born and till the moment you die, and well, after that, too. I’m sure everyone in this room knows what I’m talking about, what with y’all being the honorary members of _‘yep I died a couple of times but then I was brought back no biggie’_ club.”

Gabriel’s smile was very smug as he watched the others chuckle and shake their heads at his joke. Even Castiel smiled a little, and that counted for something.

“Memory works in clusters. If we could look at each of those clusters separately, we’d see that it’s a pile of seemingly random events of a life, but if we look closer, we’d notice that they are all connected through association. And those associations are not logical, that’s why we perceive a memory cluster as a collection of random bits of information. But, if you have one memory out of the entire cluster, preferably the central one, you can pull all the other memories of the same cluster, because they are all connected. And that is exactly what is happening to you now, Sammy.”

“So do you mean to say that by picking up those three random bits I actually picked three central memories for the memory clusters? And now they are pulling in the other memories by association?”

“Yep. That’s exactly what’s happening right now in that melon of yours, as well as on that beach. Good thing it does, don’t you think? Saves us a lot of legwork.”

“But how can those be central cluster pieces? I get the one about mom being one, but the other two don’t seem like they fit the role?”

“They don’t have to fit any role, Sammy. The central memory of any memory cluster is not the most important of them all; it’s simply a memory, any memory that managed to drag a number of other memories into a pile with it. So there really isn’t anything logical in what memory it’s going to be exactly, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Sam stared into one spot, deep in his thoughts, but Gabriel didn’t say anything else, doing his weird spacing out thing again. Dean cleared his throat.

“Okay, I think I’ve had my fair share of deep conversations for today, and so have you, Sam. So how about we all get down to earth now and go get some food, huh?”

Sam and Gabriel both looked at him, startled.

“Yeah, yeah, I know that this totally awesome idea never crossed your minds in the last half an hour of _deep_ and _meaningful_ , but last time I checked, Sammy’s back among the living, and that calls for a celebration!”

Gabriel looked at Sam, raising an eyebrow.

“I could eat, especially if Cassie’s cooking. He got real good at it while you were out.”

“Oh yes, he’s awesome, and I gotta tell you, Sam, wait till you try his pasta, I forgot what it’s called… Cas? What’s the name of the one with all the green stuff in it?”

“Spinach and shrimp tagliatelle,” Castiel said, the corners of his mouth quirking up at Dean’s praise.

“Yep, that’s the one! I’m telling you, Sammy, it’s to die for!”

“You, eating rabbit food? Whoa, Dean, that’s definitely new! Tell me, what else did I miss?”

“Oh, shut it, pasta doesn’t count as rabbit food!”

“But spinach does!”

“Nuh-huh! Not when it’s in pasta!”

“Dean, Sam, I’m sure it would be wiser to continue this conversation after dinner, don’t you think?” Castiel was looking between them with an amused expression on his face. “As much as I enjoy talking about food, eating sounds a lot more appeasing right now. Does spinach and shrimp tagliatelle sound good to you, Sam, or would you prefer something else?”

Sam’s stomach growled, and he huffed out a laugh.

“I’m guessing that answers your question! Anything is fine with me, Cas, I feel like I haven’t eaten in ages.”

“Alright then.” Gabriel clasped his hands. “Let’s move it to the kitchen, shall we?”

“Oh no, you’re not going anywhere near my kitchen!” Dean said, jabbing a finger in Gabriel’s direction. “I trust Cas with my food. You? Not so much.”

“Aww, Dean-o, are you still mad at me for swapping sugar for salt in your coffee? It was just an innocent prank!”

“Yeah? Well, how can I be sure you don’t pull something like that again, huh?”

“Please. A good prankster never repeats himself. And I’m the best. Besides, it’s a classic, you gotta admit that.”

Dean huffed indignantly and grumbled something under his breath.

“I don’t think you can argue with that, Dean. I remember pulling this prank on you when I was in sixth grade. It _is_ a classic.”

Sam was grinning from ear to ear with the memory, happy to have yet another bit of himself back, and Dean couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Alright, fine. But you’re still cooking, right, Cas?”

“Of course. Although I do require some assistance to speed things along, so if you don’t mind helping me?”

“Sure thing.”

“Sam, Gabriel, you could set the table, maybe?”

“By all means.”

Sam threw off the covers and got up, heading towards the door. He turned around when he didn’t hear the others follow him, and frowned, seeing their confused faces.

“What’s wrong? You guys coming?”

“Sam… you’re… you’re okay?”

“I told you, Dean, I’m fine,” Sam said, rolling his eyes. “No need to get over-dramatic here.”

“Well, you did spend over a month unconscious in this bed, so excuse me if I find it weird that you can simply jump back on your feet as if you just took a nap! I thought we’d have to get you into physical therapy or something.”

“What can I say… it was a really good nap. I feel amazing, actually, the whole amnesia thing aside. Nothing’s wrong with me, can we please go get some food now? I’m starving!”

Sam turned his back on them and strolled out of the room, heading for the kitchen. Castiel followed him. Dean turned towards Gabriel just in time to catch a glimpse of his smug smile.

“You did this, didn’t you?”

“What are you talking about, Dean-o?”

Gabriel’s smile slipped off, quickly replaced by a confused expression that could almost pass for genuine.

“Oh, come on! Nobody can simply get up and carry on as if nothing happened after being in a coma for over a month!”

Gabriel shrugged and moved to leave the room, but Dean stood in front of him, blocking his way, and Gabriel sighed. Damn the Winchesters and their stubbornness.

“First off, he wasn’t in a coma. Technically. He was being reassembled on a subatomic level by yours truly. So, unless you’ve got complaints, can we drop the subject already?”

“No complaints on my part. Hell, I’m glad that I don’t have to play the babysitter, I’ve done my fair share of that back when we were kids. But is it safe? For Sam? I mean, him being healed by your mojo rather than getting his physical strength back naturally?”

“Who said anything about him being healed by my mojo?”

“But how…?”

“Honestly? I’ve no idea. It must be some sort of a side effect. And before you start freaking out: yes, he is perfectly fine. I checked, twice. Happy now?”

Dean leveled him with a hard stare before nodding and walking out of the room.

“You’re still banned from the kitchen, Gabriel,” he called over his shoulder before turning the corner.

“Whatever!” Gabriel called back, rolling his eyes, and raised a hand to snap himself out of the room.

…

Gabriel found Sam in the library, arranging the plates and silverware on one of the tables.

“Need some help with that, kiddo?”

Sam jumped a little, nearly dropping the plate that he was holding, and Gabriel made a mental note to check his reflexes later. Although he seemed perfectly fine, something was a bit off about the way he moved, and Gabriel wasn’t taking any chances.

“Gabriel! Uh… thanks, but I think I’m nearly done here.”

“You sure?”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow, gesturing at the table, set with nothing but simple white china plates, cutlery and paper napkins.

“Not even a tablecloth? We’re celebrating, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think that we have a tablecloth, and these plates were all I could find in the kitchen without getting in the way.”

“Well, I believe I could make some improvements, if you don’t mind?”

Sam nodded, and Gabriel snapped his fingers, mentally kicking himself immediately after. _Oh, great,_ Gabriel thought. _That’s just what the doctor ordered: make him freak out with your stupid tricks, way to go about rebuilding someone’s personality._ He froze in place, watching Sam’s reaction, trying to figure the best way out of the mess he just got himself – and Sam – into.

However, Sam seemed unperturbed by it all, and was calmly observing the off-white tablecloth that was now covering the table, pale green bone china plates with cotton napkins neatly folded on top of them, tall wine glasses, candles set into a pair of three-piece candle holders, and an oddly shaped, dusty bottle made of dark glass that sat in the middle of the table. He picked up the bottle, lifting it to his nose.

“What are we drinking?”

“Oh, nothing too fancy, just some Chablis. The occasion calls for some good wine, and 1534 was the best year for Burgundy if you ask me. Besides, it goes pretty well with pasta.”

Gabriel grinned and wiggled his eyebrows, and Sam snorted out a laugh.

“Oh God, you’re such a show-off, Gabe! Nothing fancy indeed, just a bottle of wine from the sixteenth century!”

“Hands off my wine, Samsquatch!”

Gabriel snatched the bottle out of Sam’s hands, picking up a glass and pouring some wine into it.

“I don’t know about you, but I think I did a damn fine job of putting you back together, so this bottle and I are going to celebrate, no matter what you say!”

“Well, I could drink to that.”

Sam picked up another glass from the table and held it out for Gabriel to fill. He was smiling, and his smile was soft and sincere, and it made Gabriel think back to the things he couldn’t afford thinking about, so he gave himself another mental kick, shoving the thoughts about _not here and long ago_ as far away as possible.

“Just so you know, I’m almost regretting putting all that sass of yours back in place when I was rebuilding you,” Gabriel grumbled, before pouring the wine into Sam’s glass.

“I’m pretty sure I’d be boring as hell without it, so I’m glad you did.”

They clinked their glasses and sipped the wine, an easy silence falling between them.

“So,” Gabriel said calmly, putting his glass on the table, “I take it that you remember me now?”

“Yeah, I do. I… I remembered how you died, Gabriel. And what you did… because of us. And I’m so sorry we got you killed. We should have gone back for you, we shouldn’t have left you there. I’m sorry.”

Sam looked away, twirling the glass in his hands absent-mindedly. Gabriel stepped up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey. I know that you don’t remember it yet, but we had this conversation before, and I’m gonna tell you the exact same thing I said then: it was my choice. And it wasn’t your fault, kiddo. None of it was.”

Sam turned to face Gabriel, blinking fast, and suddenly chuckled.

“You know, while I’m still sort of an outsider to all of this, I gotta tell you: my life is so fucking weird!”

Gabriel stared at him for a moment, and they both burst out laughing.

“Oh, Sammy,” Gabriel wheezed, “you’ve no idea!”

That remark caused another burst of laughter to erupt from Sam, and Gabriel couldn’t help but join in, laughing until there were tears in his eyes and his sides hurt. Sam was no better, holding on to a chair, wiping his eyes with his free hand. Gradually their laughter died out, and Sam managed to plop down onto the chair, letting out a long happy sigh and reaching for the bottle. Gabriel got off the floor, where he ended up somewhere in the middle of their laughing fit, and moved to sit next to him.

“So,” Gabriel said, taking a sip from his glass, “serious talk now. How much do you remember?”

“Bits and pieces.” Sam shrugged. “I still think that I don’t remember most of it, but I definitely remember you now. And there are several more episodes with Dean, some from our childhood, some are pretty recent, some of them include Cas. And I still haven’t figured out what it is that we do exactly, but it all feels completely fucked up and weird and oddly familiar at the same time. I guess it sort of helps me not to freak out, you know.”

“Yep. Your personality is all there, whole and complete. It’s your memories that we still need to recover properly, and now I’m certain that we can do it. We are getting you back, Sammy.”

Sam smiled at him, with that wide and open smile of his that made his eyes light up and his dimples show. Gabriel smiled back, trying his best not to think, not to _remember,_ and failing miserably. He told himself to stop being a sentimental idiot and reached out for the bottle, refilling his glass.

Thankfully, he was saved from the unwanted memories by the arrival of their dinner, along with Dean and Castiel. Dean was carrying a large salad bowl and Castiel took care of the pasta. They both approached the table, Dean’s grin growing wider at the sight.

“Dude, candles, seriously?”

“Oh, shut it, Dean-o, you should be grateful I didn't go for a disco ball to make this dump look somewhat decent! We’re celebrating!”

“Yeah, just make sure you don’t burn the whole place down while you’re at it.”

“Nothing’s gonna burn down, unless you decide to perform a couple of pagan rites to express your gratitude towards me for saving your brother’s ass!”

“Hey! You leave Sam’s ass outta this!”

“Why would I? It’s a pretty decent looking ass, I should know, I’ve assembled it myself after all!”

“Cut it out, you two! I’m sure that you can go on like that forever, but I’d really like to have dinner at some point in the nearest future, and _this year,_ preferably! And Gabriel, quit talking about me like I’m something you’ve just built out of Lego blocks!”

Gabriel made his best impression of a petulant child and kicked Dean’s chair under the table.

“Yeah well, he started it!”

He gave Sam his best puppy-eyed look, lower lip trembling, but Sam simply snorted and turned away from him, grabbing the serving spoons and heaping some pasta onto his plate. Gabriel slumped back in his chair and stared at the ceiling, wallowing in his exaggerated misery.

“Nobody likes me!” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes dramatically and clutching a hand to his chest. “Whatever did I do to deserve to be stuck with these ungrateful, stubborn people who cannot appreciate the simple pleasures of life?”

Dean rolled his eyes and didn’t say anything. Sam chuckled and moved Gabriel’s plate closer to put some pasta onto it. Castiel picked up the wine bottle and inspected it closely.

“1534 Chablis? Good choice, Gabriel.”

“Thank you, Cassie! At least someone appreciates my taste in wine!”

Gabriel switched back into his good mood immediately, taking the bottle from Castiel and filling all four of their glasses.

…

They ate and chatted through the dinner, the echoes of their friendly banter filling the bunker hallways. Sam was complimenting Castiel’s cooking skills while Gabriel did his best not to get on Dean’s nerves too much (but still making him glare daggers every once in a while), and half an hour later all the dishes were cleared.

Dean and Gabriel started arguing about what movie they should watch, and the argument was getting uglier by the minute until Castiel pointed out that Sam should be the one to pick a movie, and neither of them could argue with that. Dean went into the kitchen to make some popcorn. Gabriel snapped up a huge pile of assorted chocolate bars, making a point of telling everyone that it was his own personal pile and that he had no intention to share.

They all settled on the couch (Gabriel made sure it was big enough to fit all of them) and watched E.T., because Sam had just remembered watching in with Dean on a crappy motel TV when they were kids, and was feeling nostalgic. Dean couldn’t hold back the tears when E.T. died, and Gabriel called him out on it, which resulted in Dean throwing a punch at him, but falling face first onto the couch, because Gabriel snapped himself away.

At the garage, in the back of the Impala, a faint outline of the letters S and W was now etched into the surface, as if someone scratched it ever so slightly with a point of a pin.


	8. Chapter 8

_He was feeling warm and relaxed, drifting in and out of sleep, reveling in the sensation of gentle fingers combing through his hair. He let out a content sigh, snuggling into what seemed to be the comfiest pillow in the world, and heard a soft chuckle above his head._

_“You sure do know how to make yourself comfortable, huh? No wonder you fell asleep on me.”_

_He could hear the words rumbling through his pillow, and that made him realize it wasn’t a pillow after all._

_“M’not,” he mumbled, eyes still closed, a smile slowly working itself onto his face._

_The fingers in his hair paused for a beat, and then continued moving. He almost drifted off again when he felt the fingers sneak up to his ear and tug at it ever so slightly._

_“You’re not what, Sammy?”_

_“Not sleeping. And ow.”_

_“If you’re trying to convince me that it hurt, you shouldn’t be smiling, you know.”_

_The voice sounded fond and amused, and the fingers began moving again, tracing the edge of his ear, massaging the earlobe lightly. He leaned into the touch, his smile growing wider._

_“I’m not smiling, Gabriel.”_

_“Yeah, you are.”_

_“Am not!”_

_Sam moved to lie on his back and opened one eye, trying his best to glare at Gabriel and failing immediately when he saw the way Gabriel was looking at him, smiling softly, his eyes glowing in the light coming from the fireplace. He smiled back groggily, sleep still clinging to him, making his eyelids heavy. He yawned and blinked several times, struggling to keep his eyes open._

_“How long was I out?”_

_“Couple of hours, give or take.”_

_Sam groaned, running a hand over his face._

_“And you’ve been sitting here all this time? You should have woken me up!”_

_Gabriel sighed, his hand coming up to comb through Sam’s hair again._

_“You were dead on your feet. I just didn’t have it in me to wake you. Besides, there are worse ways to spend two hours than being your pillow, you know.”_

_“But what about that movie?”_

_“Don’t worry, Sammy. We’ve got all the time in the world.”_

…

Sam woke up with a start, the words still ringing in his ears, making him dizzy and disoriented for a few moments before he could bring his breathing back to normal. However, it looked like this time he woke up for real, because he was in his bed, alone in his room. No sign of Gabriel anywhere around. _Right,_ he thought, _because I was alone when I fell asleep, in my bed, and not on some couch. And we don’t have a fireplace_. He closed his eyes again, trying to remember, to catch the dream that was slipping away, out of his grasp, like dreams usually do. The dream was vague and uncertain, and the only thing he could remember clearly was the way Gabriel looked at him when he said those words.

Weird.

He got out of the bed, stretching and shaking his head, and left his room, heading for the kitchen, inspecting his memory for new bits of information on the way. It’s been a little over a week since their celebratory dinner, and Sam was growing restless, so he was both relieved and excited to find that he had no new memories pop up in his head since the day before.

Sam was eager to continue hunting for the memory pieces back on that beach inside his mind, and he told Gabriel about it right after they finished watching the movie, the same night he got out of bed for the first time. But Gabriel shook his head, and explained that before they went back there again, they had to wait for the central bits of the memory clusters to pull all of the memories attached to them, and for Sam’s soul to heal up some more.

So they settled for watching another movie, and halfway through it Sam remembered that he had seen it before, on his second date with Jess, and then he remembered Jess, and the fire, and suddenly he was having a panic attack, because the memory was so vivid that it _hurt._ Dean was freaking out, not knowing what to do, how to help, and Castiel had to drag him out of there at Gabriel’s request, so that they wouldn’t have to deal with him on top of everything else.

Gabriel told him all of this later, when he managed to talk him through his panic attack, his voice steady and reassuring, with a strange undertone to it that sounded oddly familiar, and Sam had a feeling he could almost remember the time when he heard Gabriel talk like that before.

When he managed to come to terms with this newfound memory, he came to Dean’s room, pulling his brother into a tight hug, and Dean said that he was sorry, that he didn’t know what to do, and Sam said that it was okay, and held him a little longer, until Dean told him he’d had about enough of the chick-flick moment, and his words brought yet another memory, a happy one this time.

He’d been sleeping a lot these days, ten to twelve hours a night, and napping at least a couple of times during the day. That earned him an awful lot of teasing on Dean’s part, including calling him Sleeping Beauty repeatedly, but he simply brushed it off, because he knew that Dean was worried about him, and that was his way of showing brotherly concern. However, all the teasing stopped after he accidentally overheard Gabriel talk to Dean, in that suddenly-serious tone of his, telling him that Sam’s soul needed to heal, and at that point sleep was his best remedy, and that everything was fine, and that Dean should stow his crap.

To say that Sam was surprised that Dean actually listened to Gabriel was a major understatement.

He stumbled into the kitchen, deep in his thoughts, still not quite able to shake that weird dream off completely, and almost bumped into Gabriel, who greeted him with a mug of freshly brewed coffee and a huge grin plastered across his face.

“Mornin’, Sammy!”

“Good morning, Gabriel.”

Sam took the coffee with a grateful nod and buried his nose in the mug, reveling in the intensity of the rich aroma wafting from it.

“Want some breakfast?”

“Sure. What are we having?”

“Eggs on toast and salad for you, and pancakes for me.”

Gabriel made a flowing theatrical gesture with his hand as he spoke, and the food promptly appeared on the table, accompanied by a jug of orange juice for Sam and three kinds of syrup and whipped cream for Gabriel. Sam snorted into his coffee.

“Just pancakes, Gabe? I’d call it a stairway to diabetes.”

“More like a stairway to heaven to me,” Gabriel said in a sing-song voice. “And they’re chocolate chip pancakes, too!”

“I guess there’s no use for me to try and talk you into eating at least something healthy, is there?”

“What can I say, Sammy, a moose has its grass and a trickster eats whatever he feels like.”

“And eleven times out of ten it’s gonna be something tooth-rotting, I’m sure,” Sam grumbled, even though the corners of his lips were quirking up.

“Well, there’s the juice, if you feel like sharing, and I think I had some fruit somewhere… Ah! There they are!”

Gabriel pointed to the two little bowls hiding behind the tallest pile of pancakes Sam had ever seen. There were some strawberries cut into halves and banana slices. Sam huffed out a laugh and plopped down onto the chair, picking up a glass and pouring himself some orange juice.

Gabriel sat down across the table from him and piled half of the pancakes onto his plate, drenching them in all three syrups, adding a mountain of whipped cream and placing a single piece of strawberry on top. Sam couldn’t help but laugh at that, and Gabriel scowled at him, adding a banana slice and another strawberry onto his plate.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel, but this is too ridiculous not to be funny. I couldn’t help it.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I aim to please.”

Gabriel bowed as best he could after that, neatly avoiding the pile of food on his plate, winking at Sam, and they started eating.

“So,” Sam said after a while, “where are the others? Have I slept till noon again and they already had their breakfast?”

“No, actually, it’s a little past ten, which is unusually early for you, and I’m taking it as a good sign. You didn’t have any new memories this morning, did you?”

Gabriel’s words were more of a statement than a question, and Sam shook his head in reply.

“No, I didn’t. I did have some weird dream though. I don’t think that it’s a memory, anyway. It just feels… odd.”

“An odd dream? Do tell.”

“Well, it was somewhat confusing, because I was asleep in that dream, if this makes any sense? And I think that I might have fallen asleep on you. We were going to watch some movie or something, and there was this huge fireplace… Now that I think about it, I don’t think it was here, or anywhere that I remember – well, for now I don’t, at least. Oh, and the last thing I remember before I woke up, you said something like ‘don’t worry, we have time’.”

Sam kept silent for a while, trying to remember the dream. The words that Gabriel told him in that dream were not exactly what he said just now.

Maybe that was the reason why he didn’t notice Gabriel staring at him, with a cold, hard stare, the smile wiped off his face and replaced with a blank, emotionless, angel-like mask.

“Hold on, I think I got it wrong. You said ‘we have all the time in the world’. Do you think that it’s anything important?”

Sam glanced up at Gabriel, but he was busy digging into his pancake mountain, and looked like he didn’t even hear the question. When he looked up after he took a large bite and started chewing it, there was nothing but pure bliss written across his face.

“This,” he said, mouth still full, “is officially heaven on a plate. You should try some for dessert.”

“Dude, gross. Don’t talk with your mouth full, you remind me of Dean.”

Gabriel took a large gulp of orange juice from Sam’s glass to help him down the pancakes and grinned at him.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t help it. And to answer your question, no, I don’t think it’s something important. Probably just a dream, the kind that the brain makes up from the stuff that’s rolling around it. You did fall asleep on me the other day after all.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry, kiddo. There are worse ways to spend a couple of hours than being your pillow, you know.”

Sam looked at him, startled.

“I… I think I just remembered it. These are the exact words that you said in my dream. Other than that thing about time.”

“What can I say, Sammy, your dream brain seems to know me too well. I must say I’m flattered.”

Gabriel smiled at him, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Sam couldn’t say that he was entirely convinced that everything was as fine as Gabriel tried to imply, but he figured that Gabriel would tell him, eventually, should the matter of that weird dream become a real problem.

He took a bite of his salad and was shocked by the burst of flavours on his tongue, doing his best not to moan over his food.

“Oh, this salad is delicious! I can’t remember when I last tried something as good!”

Gabriel shrugged nonchalantly, looking away.

“There’s a farmer’s market two towns over. Some of the people there grow really good stuff.”

“Whoa, I… thank you, Gabe. It’s a… a really nice thing to do.”

“That’s what friends are for, right?”

Gabriel was grinning at him, and this time there was nothing bad hiding behind his grin, so Sam smiled back and nodded, relieved, thinking that maybe, whatever was bothering Gabriel before, wasn’t all that bad.

They finished their breakfast in comfortable silence. Sam ended up having a couple of Gabriel’s pancakes for dessert, and they were so good that he would have gone for seconds if there were any left. As soon as they were finished, Gabriel waved his hand, and all the dirty dishes vanished from the table with a soft pop.

“Show-off,” Sam muttered, trying to hide his smile.

“You know what they say, Sammy, when you do something, do it properly or don’t do it at all. And by ‘properly’ I mean with at least some sense of style.”

“And by _‘they’_ you mean you, of course,” Sam shot back.

Gabriel chuckled.

“Well, considering the fact that I am, technically, older than dirt, I might have been around to teach _‘them’_ a thing or two.”

“By the way, speaking of them. As in the other them. Dean and Cas? You still haven’t told me where’d they gone to.”

“I’ve sent them out on a test drive.”

“What kind of a test drive?”

“As much as I would have wanted it, not the kind that would put an end to all the staring going on between them!”

“Oh God, you’ve noticed that, too? I mean, I don’t remember much of our interactions with Cas yet, but what little I remember, and what I’ve witnessed these days, is just… just awful! And… it was always that bad, wasn’t it?”

“It’s been going on for years! Granted, I haven’t been around for the most of it, but when I did notice it, I got curious, and I peeked into their soul-staring fest a little. Ugh.” Gabriel shuddered. “There are no other words for it. But anyway, that’s not what they’re after, I’m pretty sure. I just sent them to take Dean’s precious car out for a drive. Pop into town, go for a walk, grab a lunch, that sort of thing.”

Sam stared at Gabriel, mouth hanging open, before he shut it with a click and started laughing.

“Oh my… my God, Gabriel, did you just… set those two up on a date?”

“Well, technically it’s not a date, at least not one that they are aware of.” Gabriel grinned at Sam, who was still chuckling. “And anyway, that was not my endgame. I sent them out there for science.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you did.”

“No, I mean it, Sammy. Remember I told you about temporal displacement, and how neither Cas nor even your own brother could remember you when I first popped in here?”

“Yep, what about it?”

“Well, I guess that Dean is too embarrassed to tell you, and I forgot to mention that when I shifted the temporal displacement back for them, it had a limited radius. So basically they both had to stay put in here all the time while you and I were busy on that beach, putting you back together for the first time. And long story short, Dean got cabin fever, and sneaked past Cassie, going on a hunting trip, and the temporal displacement got to him, and he forgot that he needed to go back. I had to track him down and talk some sense into him, and surprisingly it worked. I mean, don’t get me wrong, but you know how stubborn your brother is.”

“I’m aware of that, yes. But so are you. It’s actually shocking sometimes, to see you two getting along.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up at that, and he pressed a hand to his chest, his face doing the whole _‘who, me?!?’_ pantomime, and Sam had to try his best not to laugh again. He shook his head and continued.

“So, correct me if I’m wrong, but you sent Dean and Cas out of the bunker to see if either of them will experience the effects of the temporal displacement?”

“You’re absolutely right about that, Sammy boy. That’s why I like you: you’re smart.”

“Okay, whatever you say, Gabriel. How long will they be out?”

“Well, first I suggested that they should stay overnight at some motel.” Gabriel paused and wiggled his eyebrows, making Sam snort yet again. “Because that’s how the temporal displacement got to Dean for the first time. But he threw a hissy fit, saying that he won’t leave you with me for the whole two days. He said I’m a bad influence on you, can you believe that?”

Gabriel was so furious, that Sam had to go for a fake outrage, crying out _‘how dare he?!?’,_ and making Gabriel double with laughter immediately. After a while he managed to calm down and continued.

“So that was when Cassie came up with this whole walking and lunch thing, – which, actually, got me thinking that my little bro is not as clueless as I thought. Anyway, the idea is that they drive to Lebanon, go for a nice long walk, then grab some food, and then Dean would try and take a nap. Cassie doesn’t need sleep, so he can be Dean’s little guardian angel, just the way he prefers it. And in case the temporal displacement gets a hold of him again, Castiel would bring them both here, and I’ll deal with it. And don’t worry, there’s nothing dangerous about it, and I’m pretty sure that most likely they’ll just end up going on a romantic date, Cassie-style.”

“Oh. Okay, I see. So what are we gonna do in the meantime? Lord of the Rings marathon?”

“Oh no, Samwise, I think we’ll save that for later. You and I are gonna go back inside your head now.”

Sam gulped, suddenly feeling anxious, and stared at Gabriel.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Yesterday you were whining and telling me exactly how much you were tired of doing nothing but sleeping and eating all the time, I thought you’d be happy to finally jump back into action?”

“Uh… yeah, I am, I wanna do this, and I want my memories back, it’s just…” Sam looked away, not knowing how put his feelings into words, and blurting out the first excuse that came to mind instead. “I’ve just woken up; don’t you think we should wait a little? I’m not sure I can fall back asleep now.”

Gabriel, however, seemed to understand what exactly Sam was trying to say. He placed a hand onto Sam’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. Gabriel’s tone was soft and sympathetic as he spoke.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. You’re gonna do just fine. Trust me. It’s like riding a bicycle: your body remembers exactly what it needs to do to stay balanced. Except that in our case it’s your soul, not your body – other than that I’d say this metaphor is pretty fitting.”

Gabriel paused, smiling at him, and his smile was so open and sincere that Sam couldn’t help but smile back.

“And by the way, who said anything about sleeping? I’m gonna go on a nice long walk along that beach of yours. Care to join me?”

“Of course I will join you, Gabriel.” Sam snorted. “Having you poking around inside _my_ mental construct all by yourself is not something I can allow, after all!”

Gabriel grinned at him and made a gesture with his hand.

“After you!”

Sam got up from his chair and walked out of the kitchen, heading towards his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know what they say, right? it's always quiet before the ~~shit hits the fan~~ storm  
>  (I hope you've enjoyed the fluff pls don't kill me for what's to come in the next two weeks)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeere comes the angsssst slowly and gradually like the first gusts of wind and heavy raindrops before the storm (poetic af I know)))  
> also I fixed the dashes to quote marks throughout the entire fic, bye-bye dashes  
> hope you enjoy)

_They were standing on the same endless beach for the third time in less than two weeks – Sam insisted that they should go, because he had this weird sensation, something like an itch that was too deep inside of him and impossible to reach, and the only way to get rid of it was to get back here and collect some more pieces of his memory. He looked around, blinking in the bright sun, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light._

_“Would ya look at that, Sammy!”_

_Gabriel was several steps ahead, studying the glowing orb in front of him. The orb grew significantly since the last time Sam had seen it, and it had already been bigger than a large gym ball then. Now its top was almost level with Sam’s head, and it was hanging very low above the ground. Gabriel turned away from the orb, grinning at Sam._

_“Looks like we’re nearly done here, don’t you think?”_

_He waved his hand around, pointing at the pieces scattered on the sand, and Sam noticed that there weren’t so many of them left. None were too far from the orb: the farthest of them had been dragged in by the central cluster memories after he picked the first four pieces, and he collected a few remaining ones on their previous trips here._

_“Yeah, looks like it. I’d even go as far as to say that a couple more of these trips down the memory beach should make for the rest of them.”_

_“Yep, I’m pretty sure that would cover it. But don’t go jumping over your head, kiddo. It’s not like there’s a deadline for doing this, you know?”_

_Sam rolled his eyes at him and began walking, as he felt the now-familiar tug somewhere in his chest that meant that his soul – or whatever part of him that was doing this – just located the next piece of memory that he had to collect._

_“Yes, **mom,** I know,” Sam called without turning back and kept walking. “No staying out late because the big boys who are allowed to let me play with them. Got it.”_

_He heard Gabriel sputtering behind him and smiled to himself, bending to pick up a broken seashell and a piece of driftwood that were tangled together with a bit of dry seaweed._

…

Gabriel picked the hourglass off the bedside table and put it into his pocket. Sam was fast asleep, just like he had been every other time he used the hourglass to bring them back to Sam’s beach to collect more of his memories. He looked peaceful and relaxed, and the familiar hint of a smile that ghosted over his face every once in a while left Gabriel longing to touch him.

 _You can’t do this,_ he reminded himself. _Not to him. He is not yours, just as you are not his, and even the other you that was here before, the one that this Sam knew, wasn’t his. He was nothing more than an ally, not even a friend. Stop torturing yourself, this isn’t gonna happen, and not because he wouldn’t want you, but because you owe it to your Sam. So get your shit together and do your damn job, and leave the kid alone._

He shook his head, trying to snap out of it, and quickly pulled back the hand that was slowly inching towards Sam’s on top of the covers. He stood up and began pacing around the room, making sure he did it silently so as not to disturb Sam’s sleep. _I can do this,_ he thought. _I can help him and let him go on with his life, just like he is supposed to. Because it’s the right thing to do._

But the thing still bothering him was Sam’s dream, the one he told him about a little while after the first memory rebuilding trip. Because it wasn’t a dream. It was a memory. His memory, not Sam’s; not _this Sam’s,_ at least. And that was just… impossible. So there he was, pacing around Sam’s bed, trying to figure out how Sam could have gotten this memory in the first place.

He couldn’t look into Sam’s soul to find the answer: Sam was still healing, and it was way too dangerous for him. So far, the best explanation he could come up with was that somehow some part of his memories got transferred into Sam’s subconscious while he was putting him back together, having nothing to go by but billions of scattered fragments of Sam and the stubborn idea that if there were pieces they sure as hell could be put back together.

Gabriel sighed, running a hand over his face in frustration. Sure, it was just a wild guess, and he had no way to prove that he was right, but it was the only thing that made sense, so it had to be it. _Way to go in over your head and complicate everything,_ he thought. _Now all you can do is sit here and hope that this was the only piece of your memory that slipped into his brain, and there won’t be any others to complicate things even more._

He sighed again, throwing a look at Sam’s sleeping form, and quickly turning away. He needed a time-out, needed to get out of there and get himself together. He was immersed in his problems so deeply that he almost missed Dean’s careful steps approaching Sam’s room, and barely managed to snap himself back into the chair by Sam’s bed when the door opened and Dean poked his head in, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

Gabriel made a shooing motion with his hand, and Dean’s head nodded and disappeared behind the door. Gabriel got up and followed him out of the room. They walked together down the corridor in silence.

“So?” Dean prompted. “How is he?”

“Right now? Sleeping, as usual. And I’d say he’s gonna be at it for at least twelve hours.” Gabriel held a pause. “He… managed to collect a lot of pieces today. There aren’t that many left.”

“But he’ll manage to digest all of those, right? Did you make sure he didn’t overwork himself in there?”

“Don’t worry, Dean-o, he’ll be fine. His soul is healing up nicely, and he told me that the new memories weren’t such a shock to him any longer. Now he feels them more like they’re just _there,_ and have always been there. It’s a good sign. Your brother has almost pulled through.”

“That’s… that’s good. I never doubted he would, you know? He’s a stubborn son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” Gabriel smirked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Runs in the family.”

Dean made a face at that, and Gabriel grinned wider. Getting on his nerves was almost too easy, but it never ceased to amuse him. They walked into the library, and Dean plopped into the chair next to Castiel, who was sitting by one of the tables, reading an old manuscript and slowly typing up some notes on Sam’s laptop as he went. He acknowledged their arrival with a simple nod and went back to his work again.

Gabriel hopped onto the table opposite them and stared at Dean expectantly.

“So. Did you manage to check up on the initials?”

“Yeah, I did. And I got there in time to see it happening. You know, when you two went rummaging around Sam’s head again.”

“Oh? Care to share the details?”

“Well, it’s all kinda hazy, like I’m not sure that I saw something, but there’s some part of me that is certain that there was definitely something happening. I was sitting there, in the back seat, staring at the letters, and for a brief moment they went kinda blurry, as if there was something in my eye. I blinked, and everything was back to normal. So I waited there, like you asked, and if I’m not mistaken, I’ve counted eight of those blurs.”

“Yep.” Gabriel nodded. “It makes sense. There were eight pieces that Sam picked today.”

“Eight?” Castiel looked away from his work, staring at Gabriel with concern. “Don’t you think that it’s moving things a little too fast, Gabriel?”

“You think I’m the one to blame for that, Cassie? It was all Sam. His soul is healing, and it needs more bits to complete the process. And anyway, the sooner it’s done, the sooner I’ll be out of your hair. I’m ready to bet anything that Dean-o here is sick and tired of seeing my handsome mug around here every day.”

“Hey!” Dean exclaimed, pointing a finger at Gabriel. “Don’t make it all about yourself. Yes, you’re an asshole, and an annoying one at that, but don’t you dare just sit there and assume that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing for Sam. And I still haven’t got a single clue as to why, but I know that you care about him almost as much as I do.”

Gabriel was taken aback by this sudden outburst, and for the first time in days he couldn’t find words to throw back at the elder Winchester.

“Sam needs you, Gabriel. He needs you so that he can get better, but it’s more than just that. For whatever reason he seems to enjoy your company; and God knows Sammy could use a friend right now. I mean, it’s not like we have those in abundance.”

Dean sighed, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded tired.

“Look, all I’m saying is just… don’t be a dick about it, okay? You’re welcome to stay here as long as Sam needs you.”

Gabriel was still uncertain what to say about all of this, but, fortunately, he was saved by Dean’s phone that promptly began ringing as soon as he finished his speech. He held the phone closer to his face, frowning at the number, and went into the hallway to answer it.

Castiel seemed to be buried deep in his scroll, and paid him no attention. It made Gabriel relax a little, because he knew Dean enough to be sure that he wouldn’t bring the subject up again once he was done with his call. So he sat on his table, munching on a chocolate bar, kicking his feet in the air, and felt quite content with himself. His job was nearly done, all was going well, and as for the unnecessary thoughts – he shoved them deep and pushed them away, deciding to deal with them some other time. Or never.

“He is right, you know.”

Castiel spoke up without moving his eyes from his work, and nearly made Gabriel jump out of his skin. But he pretended to not have heard it, hoping that Castiel will get tired of talking to himself and drop the subject sooner rather than later.

“Sam does care about you,” Castiel continued, unperturbed by Gabriel’s obvious reluctance to talk. “More than you know. More than Sam himself is aware of, at this point. Why are you so eager to leave?”

Gabriel pursed his lips, refusing to acknowledge Castiel’s words in any way. For a while the only sounds that could be heard in the library were the soft rustling of the scroll and the gentle tapping of Castiel’s fingers on the keyboard.

“You know exactly why, Cassie, so quit pretending otherwise.”

Gabriel realized that he was talking only when he heard his own voice. _Ah, well,_ he thought. _Better be out with it now to close the topic for good._ So he took a breath that he didn’t really need and continued.

“There’s no place for me here. I don’t belong. The Gabriel that you knew, the one that played tricks on you and the boys, and later decided that he was on your side after all, - that Gabriel is dead. Has been for over five years. Trust me, I’ve checked. Besides, I wouldn’t even be able to set a foot into this reality if he wasn’t. So, believe it or not, but I don’t really see the point of my being here.”

Castiel was now staring at him, with that unblinking, scrutinizing stare of his, head tilted slightly to the side.

“But what about Sam?”

“What does Sam has to do with any of this, huh?”

“I’m sorry, Gabriel, but I’ve been under impression that you-”

“Don’t, just – don’t, okay? It has nothing to do with Sam. With this Sam, anyway. And it will be better for everyone if I do what I came here to do: put him back together and be on my way. Leave him be, and let him live his own life.”

“Have you even considered asking Sam if that’s something that he wants?”

“Well, has it ever occurred to anyone to ask _me_ what I want, huh?” Gabriel snapped, barely holding himself together not to yell on top of his lungs. “How would _you_ feel, Cassie, if I whipped up a perfect copy of _your_ favourite Winchester, and started dangling it right in front of your nose?”

Castiel didn’t say anything at first, looking away from him. His voice was quiet, but firm and steady when he spoke up.

“He is not a copy, Gabriel.”

Gabriel deflated suddenly, all the fight gone out of him in a blink of an eye.

“I know, Cassie,” he said quietly. “But he isn’t my Sam either.”

 

Dean walked back into the library with an unreadable expression on his face, still holding his phone in his hand, and staring at it as if it was about to explode.

“That,” he said, gesturing at the phone, “was Jody. Sheriff Mills. She was… she asked about Sam.”

Gabriel jumped off the table, focusing on Dean, the conversation he’d just had already forgotten. He heard Castiel sigh behind his back, but ignored him, striding up to Dean and reaching out a hand towards his forehead. Dean jerked back on an instinct, and Gabriel willed himself to stop and explain.

“I need to check it. Your conversation with Sheriff Mills. And relax, Dean-o, I’m not gonna poke around that melon of yours for some dirty little secrets, mostly because I’m pretty sure that some of them involve my little bro.”

He nodded towards Castiel, and watched, extremely satisfied with the way Dean tried to act nonchalant while the tips of his ears turned slightly red.

“Get on with it already,” Dean grumbled.

Gabriel pressed two fingers to his forehead, and a couple of moments later stepped away, a triumphant smile playing on his lips.

“Well, gentlemen, let me be the first one to congratulate us all on the success of our mission. It looks like Sam is fully integrated into the reality, because not only Sheriff Mills remembers him now, but the young hunter that you talked to upon her request also knows who you both are, if the words _‘holy shit I’m talking to one of the Winchester brothers’_ rattling around in his brain through the entire conversation are anything to go by.” Gabriel paused and waggled his eyebrows at Dean. “Looks like you got yourself a fan, Dean-o. My advice: don’t take any cases with Brendan McAlister for the next few years, and he’ll grow out of it. Unless you want to expand your little group of secret admirers, that is.”

Dean looked like he was ten seconds away from exploding, and Gabriel decided that it was his cue to leave. He turned to Castiel, grinning at him.

“Cassie! I take it that you two can hold down the fort while Sam has his beauty sleep? I’ve got urgent business to attend to.”

And he snapped himself away without waiting for Castiel’s reply.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY  
> *throws chapter at you and runs away*
> 
> amazing [art](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6086583) by [Iggy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Igglepuff/pseuds/Igglepuff)

_Sam was dreaming; that much he knew for sure. He was also certain that he had seen this dream before._

_He was lying on a blanket spread over the tall grass, staring into the vast blue sky above his head. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of strawberries, summer flowers, fresh grass, earth, and honey. The sun hung low over the horizon, sending streaks of gold and amber through the trees and the grass, illuminating everything that it touched, making it look soft around the edges._

_He looked at the man lying next to him: he was flat on his back, head nestled in the dip of Sam’s belly, eyes following the clouds that drifted across the sky. Sam couldn’t help but stare at the way his face was lit up by the setting sun, soft hues of its beautiful golden light shining through his hair and reflecting in his eyes, making them glow._

_“Do you think that one looks more like a moose or a dragon?” A pause. “Sammy?”_

_“Huh? Uh… sorry, Gabe. Got distracted.”_

_Gabriel turned his head and was now staring at him, clouds forgotten. Sam felt a smile spreading across his face, and watched it light up Gabriel’s eyes even more than they already were, and his lips were curling up in a smile of his own, and Sam’s hand came up to trace the pale freckles that dusted Gabriel’s cheeks and stood out in the sunlight; and suddenly Gabriel was sitting up, and leaning towards him, and his eyes were still glowing, even though his face was now turned away from the sun._

_“Oh, that is the kind of distraction I’m all on board with, Sammykins,” Gabriel murmured, his face an inch apart from Sam’s, before he leaned all the way in and brushed his lips against-_

…

Sam woke with a start and jolted up in bed, chest heaving. It took him almost a minute of deep, even breaths to get back to reality. He glanced around the room and plopped back into the pillows with a sigh, relieved that Gabriel was nowhere to be seen.

Because now, unlike the first time, he remembered the dream in vivid detail. His mind was racing, as he was trying to figure out what that dream meant, and, what was more important, why he wasn’t too freaked out about almost snogging the archangel in his dream. Well, he was kinda freaking out, but not really. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that the dream was anything but unpleasant. In fact, he wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of something similar happening in real life, not in a dream, and – _whoa, did not see that one coming,_ he thought.

Was he… was he secretly crushing on Gabriel, and, due to a really odd state that his mind was in now, had to find out this information about himself through his dreams? That was… very weird, to say the least, but then again, he couldn’t really name anything that wasn’t weird about his life these days. He searched his brain for other explanations, but couldn’t think of anything else, so he tried to use logic to get to the bottom of the complicated mess that was his feelings towards Gabriel.

And that was a pretty difficult thing to do, given the circumstances.

When he first remembered Gabriel, he remembered seeing the ashy outline of wings on the floor, and he remembered feeling the familiar sting of guilt and regret shooting through him. He knew then, that it was his fault, that he was the one who got Gabriel killed, because it was his idea to try and talk him into helping them in the first place. Sure, Gabriel told him that it wasn’t his fault, but neither that, nor the fact that Gabriel wasn’t dead any longer, did anything to alleviate his guilt.

Gabriel didn’t tell him much about his coming back from the dead, so Sam assumed it to be a touchy subject, and didn’t push. He figured that Gabriel really was dead; otherwise he would have bragged about the magnificent stunt he pulled to trick Lucifer into believing that he killed him. He wasn’t really sure why Gabriel helped him, but he wasn’t going to complain. The more he became himself, the more memories he got back, the more he was able to appreciate the impossible thing that Gabriel did by putting him back together.

The memories of the endless beach and the first time he was there, putting the pattern pieces together, started coming back to him, too. They were vague and uncertain, because there wasn’t much of him present in the first place, but they were still there, and he remembered Gabriel being there with him, for the first time, telling him that he was a friend, helping him with the pattern pieces and whooping with joy at every successful step that Sam took towards himself.

Sam knew that they weren’t friends before, but now everything seemed to be… different, somehow. Gabriel seemed to genuinely care about him, up to the point where he felt his brother got a little jealous because of that. Taking care of Sam had always been his job after all.

He didn’t know what to think of it, it was all too confusing, and he wasn’t sure that he really did feel something more than friendship towards Gabriel. They had gotten really close since Sam woke up and started getting his memories back, that he was sure of, but was there something more? That was what Sam didn’t know, and the dream he’d just had didn’t really do anything to give him the answer to that question.

Sam got out of the bed, picking up his phone to check the time, and winced: it was 3 am. He’d have to do hell of a job to get his sleeping schedule back to normal when all of his memories were finally back in place. He stretched and yawned, thinking about what he could do next. Dean was most likely asleep, which left the never-sleeping angels to keep him company. Good thing that Cas was there. He wasn’t sure he could be alone with Gabriel and not do something stupid; not after that dream.

However, his assumptions proved to be wrong when he entered the library and saw Dean sprawled on the couch in front of the TV, watching some old sitcom reruns and nursing a beer.

“Mornin’, Sammy.”

“Dean! What are you doing up? It’s the middle of the night!”

“Yeah, well, the douchebag angel went nobody knows where, Cas went out to make sure you are fully integrated into the reality, and that leaves me on Sammy duty, so here I am!”

Dean saluted him with his bottle and took a long swig. Sam rolled his eyes.

“I’m not five, Dean, I’ve got amnesia, and even that is as good as gone now. There shouldn’t be any ‘Sammy duty’.”

“What can I say, Sammy? Sue me for wanting to make sure my brother is okay after sleeping for about twenty-eight hours.”

“Did I sleep that long?!? I thought it was just a couple of hours…”

“I guess that’s what you get when you overwork yourself with that memory stuff,” Dean grumbled, fumbling with the remote to mute the TV.

“But I didn’t! I felt much better after I finished picking up the pieces than I used to.”

Dean shrugged and got up from the couch.

“Maybe it was your way of celebrating your return to us. You’ve seemed very fond of sleeping lately.”

Sam’s brain must have been half-asleep, still, because Dean’s words seemed to fly right out of his ear. However, it had finally caught on with the conversation, making Sam stare at his brother, eyes wide with surprise.

“Wait, wait… ‘Fully integrated’? ‘Return to us’?”

“And he finally gets it! Thank God for that! I was beginning to think that somebody replaced those nerdy brains of yours with potato salad while you were sleeping, princess!”

Dean was grinning at him, wide, and Sam grinned back.

“How did you know? I mean, other than the obvious ‘check the initials’ thing?”

“Jody called. Was asking about you.”

“Jody remembers me?”

“Yeah, she does, and, according to Gabriel, some young hunter whose ass she saved from becoming werewolf chow did as well.”

“Whoa, that’s… that’s good news, right? So I am fully back… here?”

“Looks like it.”

Dean clasped a hand onto his shoulder, and Sam pulled his brother into a hug. He was back. He saved his brother, and nearly died in the process, but he did save him, and now he was okay. They both were okay.

“Welcome back, Sammy,” Dean said, squeezing him tight.

Sam simply nodded into his brother’s shoulder, unable to speak, and squeezed him back. Dean let go of him after a beat, slapping him on the back.

“Let’s go get you something to eat, huh? You must be starving.”

…

Dean, of course, made burgers to celebrate, and Sam insisted on making salad. By the time the food was ready, Castiel walked into the kitchen, and Dean’s grin grew even wider, although Sam didn’t think that it was possible. Now that he had almost all of his memories back, Sam couldn’t really remember the last time he saw his brother smile that much.

They shared their – early breakfast? Late dinner? And Castiel told them that he listened into the thoughts and memories of a couple of dozen people he picked at random – hunters who knew them, people who they saved during hunts. And everyone had memories of Sam, and it looked like they were always there, that the temporal displacement never even occurred in the first place. Just the way it should be.

Gabriel was still nowhere to be seen, which was strange: usually he would always be back at the bunker by the time Sam woke up. Sam decided not to overthink the whole situation, shrugging it off on Gabriel being Gabriel, which meant that the archangel was probably relieved that he didn’t need to babysit them all 24/7 any longer, and decided to take a break.

Dean dozed off on the couch, despite his reassurances that he wasn’t going back to bed because he had his four hours before Sam woke up, and Sam decided to go for a morning run. Castiel frowned at the idea, saying that he couldn’t be sure that it was safe for Sam to leave the bunker yet, and that was the moment Gabriel chose to pop in.

“Come on, Cassie, you know that moose enjoy frolicking in the wilderness, and who are we to deny them?”

Gabriel was in his usual cheerful and bouncy mood, grinning at Castiel, who was still frowning, slapping him on his back in reassurance, then twirling in place to grin at Sam.

“Heya, Sammy, glad to see you in the waking world, finally!”

Sam found that he was grinning back with ease, and there was no awkwardness between them, so he decided to stick to the famous Winchester tradition for once: shove the complicated mess of his feelings towards Gabriel aside and deal with them later.

“I still think you should check if it is safe for Sam to leave the bunker, Gabriel. I’m sure you wouldn’t want anything to go wrong now, when you are so close to success.”

“Close to success?” Gabriel cried out, waving his hand in Sam’s direction. “You call this _‘close to success’_? This little project is a done deal already, and Sammy here’s just as good as new. A hundred percent integration, no take backs!”

Castiel kept staring at him, unblinking, and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

“Fine, if you insist!”

Sam had expected the usual two fingers to his forehead when Gabriel walked up to him with an outstretched hand, but Gabriel did no such thing. At the last moment his hand came up, and Sam felt Gabriel’s fingers running through his hair, ruffling it a bit as they went, and he had to use all the willpower he had left in order not to shudder at the sudden sensation that simple and innocent touch sent jolting through his spine.

Gabriel seemed oblivious of Sam’s reaction, as he moved his hand away and then quickly turned back to Castiel.

“There. He’s all good to go. Happy?”

Castiel didn’t look happy. In fact, he looked slightly amused, but didn’t say anything and merely nodded, and Sam was grateful for that, and for the fact that his brother was passed out on the couch and didn’t see this weird scene. He shifted from one foot to the other and cleared his throat, feeling the heat creeping up his neck.

“I um… gonna go change. For that run.”

He turned and walked away, feeling their gazes on his back. He didn’t want to think into it any more than he already did, so he shoved it all aside, changing into his running gear and sneaking out of the bunker through the garage door, because he didn’t want to walk past Gabriel. Not yet.

It was somewhere after 5 am, and the air still held the night’s chill, but Sam was happy to be outside, finally, and it felt like the first time in his life. The sky was still dark above him, but slowly turning gray in the east, where the stars had already began to fade, forestalling the new day’s dawn. He inhaled the crisp April air and took off running at a deliberately slow pace in order to warm up.

He took his usual trail through the woods behind the bunker, and felt all of his worries disappear in the steady rhythm of his feet hitting the ground. He was overwhelmed by everything around him, for it all seemed familiar, as his feet could find the path even in the dark, but at the same time everything seemed so new, so fresh, that it felt as if he was there, in this world, for the first time in his life.

The only thought that was rattling around in his head was that he had never felt so alive before.

He returned to the bunker in a little over an hour, and, somehow, everything seemed to be back to normal. By the time he got back the sun was slowly rising above the horizon, a promise of a new beautiful day. He went straight for the showers, stopping by his room just to grab a change of clothes. When he emerged from the shower he was greeted with the delicious smells of coffee, bacon and something sweet wafting from the kitchen.

He followed his nose and found Dean, Cas and Gabriel in the kitchen; Dean still grumpy and half-asleep, nursing what must have been his first cup of coffee, while Cas and Gabriel went about making breakfast, bickering non-stop. He grinned at the scene, poured himself some coffee and went to sit across the table from Dean.

“Hey. What about not allowing Gabriel in the kitchen?”

“He promised pie, Sammy, how could I say no?”

Sam chuckled and sipped his coffee. Dean turned his head, trying to see what was going on with their breakfast, squinting at the two angels in a manner that resembled Castiel’s too much to not be funny, and Sam barely held himself together.

“Hey, Gabriel! Your pie better be good!”

“Don’t worry, bucko, it’s gonna be the best pie you have ever tasted.”

“Just don’t make me regret this, or I’ll pour itching powder all over your head.”

Gabriel shook his head, amusement clearly written across his face.

“Dean, Dean, Dean.” He sighed, staring at him with disdain. “I’ve told you before: you should never inform the intended target about possible future pranks. Whenever are you gonna learn?”

Dean grumbled something under his breath, and Sam snorted into his coffee, unable to hold his laughter in any longer.

All four of them had breakfast right there, in the tiny bunker kitchen, and the pie was indeed amazing, just as Gabriel promised. He preened under the praise of his culinary talent that he received from Sam and Castiel, and eventually even Dean had to agree that the pie was not so bad, and that Gabriel was no longer banned from the kitchen.

And just like that, it all seemed to be fine. Nothing was awkward between Sam and Gabriel, even when it was just the two of them. They had long conversations and movie marathons at odd hours of the day, when Sam was too tired to do anything else, but had not been awake long enough to feel like sleeping again. Gabriel told him that it was perfectly fine, and that he would gain his regular physical and mental strength once his soul was completely healed. He also said that most likely they had just one trip to the memory beach left, and that they shouldn’t rush it, because it was clear from Sam’s 28-hour sleeping binge that he overdid it. Just a little bit.

Sam didn’t really mind it, because the itch inside him, the one that pushed him to get more memories, wasn’t bothering him any longer.

Besides, he really liked spending time with Gabriel.

A few days have passed, and Sam’s sleeping schedule got somewhat better (he now slept 14 hours a night instead of 16, and passed out on the couch just a couple of times a day, not four or five). Dean grew restless, and was clearly having another bout of cabin fever, despite his regular trips to the nearby towns ‘to take baby for a drive’.

He asked Gabriel if it was okay to take Sam on a case, something simple for a start. Gabriel just raised an eyebrow at him, and suggested that he took Castiel instead of Sam, unless, of course, he wanted his brother to pass out in the middle of ganking some ghost or whatever it was that caught Dean’s fancy this time.

Dean was grumpy for the rest of the day, until he got on everyone’s nerves so much that Castiel sighed and took him aside for a conversation. Five minutes later Dean was packing his bag, and in another ten minutes both he and Castiel were gone. Of course, only after Dean made a point to tell Gabriel to keep an eye on Sam, and Sam to keep an eye on Gabriel and make sure he didn’t mess with Dean’s stuff. Sam and Gabriel threw a perfectly synchronized bitchface and eyeroll his way, and he grinned at them as he walked up the stairs and out of the bunker.

Sam and Gabriel were left alone in the bunker. And it was still absolutely fine. Sometimes they would go for long walks in the woods, and Gabriel would tell him countless stories from his times with the pagans that never failed to make Sam smile. Sam would tell Gabriel childhood stories, mostly about the prank wars he and Dean used to have. He guessed that it was due to him gaining all his memories back recently that he was able to remember events that happened over twenty years ago in vivid detail.

Sam didn’t have any more dreams about _that._ In fact, he almost didn’t dream at all, and when he did, his dreams dissolved in the morning light, leaving his memory with nothing but faint colours and a hint of a smile. He didn’t mind that at all.

Sam tried to analyze how he felt about Gabriel sometimes: when they were watching yet another movie, curled up on the couch together; or walking through the woods, shoulders bumping and hands brushing occasionally; or simply having dinner in the library. But every time he arrived at the same conclusion: he simply didn’t know. He felt comfortable around him, and at ease, sure, but wasn’t that what you were supposed to feel when you were around friends?

But he liked spending time with Gabriel, and he wished that Gabriel would stick around for a little longer than it was necessary to put Sam’s soul back together. That they could go on hunts together, all four of them, although Sam had a strong suspicion that Dean would allow Gabriel in his car only over his dead body. Or rather, over Gabriel’s dead body.

A week and three successful hunts later Dean called, telling Sam that they were on their way back, because he missed his little brother. Well, he didn’t actually say that, but Sam had had enough experience with Dean’s ‘man-talk’ to know exactly what he meant. They were a couple days’ drive away, and Gabriel suggested a surprise for their return: go and get the rest of Sam’s memories back.

There was something slightly odd about the way he said it, but Sam was as ready as he could ever be, so he brushed it off and nodded enthusiastically, and turned to go to his room immediately, Gabriel in tow.

…

_They were back on the beach, and as soon as Sam looked around, at the few pieces still left on the sand, he knew that they were there for the last time. Gabriel hummed something under his breath, walking around the orb, examining it closely, but not touching it. The orb was now much smaller than the last time Sam saw it._

_“Hey, Gabriel?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“Why is it so small all of a sudden?”_

_“Why, Sammy!” Gabriel twirled in place and grinned at him. “I never pegged you as an ‘it’s all about the size’ kind of girl!”_

_Sam snorted and shook his head._

_“Come on, Gabe, seriously!”_

_Gabriel just laughed and did some sort of a crazy dance around the orb, and Sam grinned, remembering the first time he saw Gabriel dance like that, back when he was stuck on this beach for what seemed like an eternity, piecing himself together for the first time._

_“It’s a good thing, Sammy! It means that you are almost completely healed, because when you are healed, there will be no disco balls left on this beach. A tragedy, I know, to let such a perfectly constructed beach go to waste without a single disco ball! Guess we’ll just have to humbly accept this ungrateful reality fully embracing your good-as-old, newly reconstructed self!”_

_Sam’s grin grew wider, and he shook his head, amused yet again by how different Gabriel was on this beach from the way he was at the bunker. At first glance, this Gabriel behaved as if he was a little child, but that was just on the surface. This Gabriel was happy that he could help Sam, really happy, and he didn’t bother hiding it. He was more sincere and open, and Sam liked it, because he liked Gabriel, and liked seeing him this happy and carefree._

_He walked around the orb, waiting for the familiar pull inside his chest to tell him which piece to pick up first. He looked at every remaining piece, and finally stopped to pick up a feather. He almost missed it, because it was practically the same colour as the sand and barely stood out on the surface. But when he picked it up, carefully brushing the sand off, the sunlight caught on it, and suddenly Sam forgot how to breathe._

_The feather was shining the most stunning shade of gold that he had ever seen. It was so beautiful that Sam couldn’t tear his eyes away from it, but it wasn’t just the feather’s beauty that made his heart race. The feather looked so familiar it hurt, but he couldn’t really say why._

_“Heya Sam? What you got in there?”_

_Gabriel was still standing by the orb, and he sounded strained when he spoke. Sam reluctantly tore his gaze away from the feather and walked up to him._

_“It’s um… it’s a feather. And this is very strange. None of the pieces did that before.”_

_He held up the shining feather for Gabriel to see, and saw him staring at it incredulously._

_“That is… I think it’s mine.”_

_He reached out a hand to take the feather from Sam’s fingers, but it slipped away from him and flew into the orb. Gabriel watched it go with a weird expression on his face._

_“Would ya look at that. Apparently it thinks that it’s yours now.”_

_“Gabriel, I don’t-”_

_“Sam.” Gabriel sighed and looked at him, and there was so much pain and guilt in his eyes that it made something in Sam’s chest twinge. “I think we need to talk. But first things first. Do you need to pick more pieces?”_

_Sam nodded._

_“Do you feel like you should do it now?”_

_“No. It can wait.”_

_Gabriel turned and began walking away from the orb. He stopped abruptly, a little way away, but not out of sight, plopped down onto the sand and beckoned Sam to follow him. Sam did, and sat down on the ground next to Gabriel. For a while, he was staring at the sea without speaking._

_“You know, I really hoped that we wouldn’t need to have this conversation, because there simply wouldn’t be an issue, but here we are.”_

_Gabriel attempted to smile at Sam, but gave up on it somewhere in the middle and waved his hand in the air._

_“So, let’s get this show on the road, huh?”_

_Sam could see that Gabriel was barely holding himself together, and didn’t say anything, nodding for him to continue. Gabriel looked up, at the cloudless pale blue sky above them, and blinked a few times._

_“I gotta say, Sammy, it’s not such a difficult story to tell, and look at me, not knowing where to start!”_

_He let out a mirthless laugh and cleared his throat._

_“Anyway. That feather that you just picked up, it wasn’t your memory. It was mine.”_

_“Are you… are you sure? How is it even possible?”_

_“Believe me, kiddo, I would recognize my own feather among a million others that look just like it. And yep, under any other circumstances I would have told you that it was impossible, but we’ve got facts here, and you can’t argue with facts. Not with these facts at least.”_

_“Okay,” Sam prompted after a pause. “Whatever it is, tell me.”_

_Gabriel took a deep breath and began speaking, ticking off the points on his fingers as he went._

_“Fact: I am not from your world. Yes, I’m still me, but not that me that you used to know, back in the good old apocalypse days. You don’t look so surprised.”_

_“Oh, but I am, trust me. It’s, just… it’s almost like I’ve always known it, subconsciously, you know?”_

_“What can I say, Sammy, your subconscious is a nerd. Just like you.”_

_Gabriel grinned at him, and even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, it was a much better attempt at smiling than his previous one. Sam nudged Gabriel’s shoulder with his own._

_“Glad we got that established. So, what’s next on your list?”_

_“Ugh, next is a tricky one. So, fact: I’m from a parallel world, that is – was – pretty much like your world, and, of course, there’s you, and your brother and basically everyone that you know, but… there, back in my world, Sam and I, we… uh… we were…”_

_“Together?”_

_Gabriel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise._

_“How did you…?”_

_He couldn’t find words and ended up waving his hands in the air helplessly. Sam chuckled._

_“I’m a nerd, remember? I simply put two and two together. You said those were your memories, not mine. And it’s not the first time a memory like that slipped into my brain.”_

_“You had another dream, didn’t you? Why didn’t you tell me?”_

_It was Sam’s turn to frantically scramble his brain for an answer._

_“I… I thought it was just a dream, okay? I figured that it was my subconscious trying to tell me I had a… a crush on you or something.”_

_Sam looked away, too embarrassed to continue. Gabriel looked at him, tilting his head to the side._

_“Do you? Have a crush on me?”_

_“Hell if I know!” Sam threw his hands in the air in frustration. “You’re my friend, yes, and I trust you with my life, but every time I try to figure this out I come up with… nothing? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I can’t really blame the parallel-world me for having a bad taste in archangels, but… I just don’t know.”_

_Sam ran out of breath and fell silent. Gabriel didn’t say anything at first, staring into the distance. When he spoke again his voice was soft and laced with pain and regret._

_“He was… amazing. To be honest, I don’t think there is a world where Sam Winchester is not amazing, you know? Present company included.”_

_“Tell me what happened?”_

_Gabriel was silent for a long while, and Sam didn’t push, feeling that whatever his story was, it wasn’t pretty. They sat there, on Sam’s beach, facing the sea. Gabriel was staring into the distance, Sam was watching sand run through his fingers, mesmerized by the sand grains glistening in the sun._

_“It got destroyed.”_

_When Gabriel finally spoke, his voice was so quiet that Sam almost missed it._

_“My world. It got destroyed. All of it. Got wiped out of existence. And I was the only one who escaped. I… don’t even know why I did it. Why I ran. I guess it’s some sort of an instinct I have. But, with you – I mean Sam – with Sam gone, there was nothing left for me. I couldn’t save him. Couldn’t save any of them. And the irony of it all is that it wasn’t even my fault, or the Winchesters’ fault, it was just some guy who did a dumb thing, and by some huge fucking miracle managed to blow us all out of existence.”_

_“So… that dream? The first one that I had? And the thing that you said… was it…”_

_“Yep. It was Christmas Eve. Sam was home after a hunt, exhausted, and fell asleep on me while we were deciding what movie to watch. Shit went down a week after that. I guess I don’t have to tell you that I regretted saying those words ever since.”_

_Gabriel let out a bitter laugh._

_“I wish I never left, you know? Just stayed there, found my Sammy in his Heaven, and spent the rest of my existence with him. However little I had left. It would have been so much easier.”_

_“But… if you stayed there, if you didn’t run… we wouldn’t be here, now. I know that it is hardly an excuse, but you saved my life. And… that counts for something. I mean, my life isn’t worth all those lives that got burned with your world, but if you died with them, it would have been for nothing. And now… here you are, doing the impossible, saving some idiot’s life that isn’t really worth saving.”_

_“Oh no, that’s where you’re wrong, kiddo. Your life is always worth saving, and you better trust me on this one.”_

_Gabriel smiled at him, and Sam smiled, too. And if there were tears in both of their eyes, well – nobody was there to call them out on that._

_“So,” Gabriel said after a while, “I believe that your nerdy brains must have figured the rest of my facts by now. Fact: those dreams that you’ve been having about me are not your dreams, but my memories. They somehow got dragged into your subconscious while I was reassembling you from scratch. I’ve no idea how that happened, but it looks like you have some of my memories now. Sorry about that.”_

_Sam gave him a small smile and a nod, and Gabriel continued._

_“Fact: you’re not in love with me, my memories got you confused. It’s as simple as that.”_

_“Let me decide what exactly my feelings are, why don’t you!” Sam scoffed._

_“Sammy,” Gabriel said softly, “but you aren’t. I know it. I’ve built you from scratch, remember? And I know that you’ve never even liked me – I mean the other me – before all of this!”_

_“Well yeah, because I hardly knew the guy! First he was too busy messing with our heads, and then he was too busy dying! We barely even spoke back then! But what we have here, now is… alright, I don’t know what this is, but you saved my life, and… and you’re my friend, Gabriel, and I like spending time with you, I like it a lot, and I don’t know – I honestly don’t know how I feel about you right now, but… I really want to give it a try. If that’s something you want, that is.”_

_“Sam. I’m sorry, but I… I can’t. You’re not in love with me, and as much as I would have wanted to, I’m not in love with you. I’m in love with another Sam, and even though I can’t be with him… it still hurts. And it’s just too much. And I know that the right thing to do here is for me to let you get on with your life. Yes, I saved you, Sam, but it doesn’t mean that I own you, and I don’t want to destroy your life, I can’t, I won’t be able to handle that again, and I know that I will, because that’s who I am.”_

_“But how – how can you be so sure, Gabriel? About all of this? I mean, I know that those were your memories, not mine, but that doesn’t mean that what we have here isn’t real! I don’t know what it is yet, and I can’t promise you anything, but isn’t it at least worth a try?”_

_Gabriel slowly shook his head, looking at Sam with sorrow._

_“We’re from different worlds, Sam. It’s never going to work. There’s a tiny part of me that’s gonna be an asshole to you, because it will always be comparing you to my Sam, and it’s just not fair to you. You deserve better, Sammy, you deserve so much more! That’s why you should get on with your life, and I should get on with mine. Or what’s left of it anyway.”_

_Tears were streaming down Gabriel’s cheeks now, but it looked like he didn’t even notice them._

_“Don’t you worry about me, kiddo. I’ll be fine.”_

_And then he was standing up, and looking away, and suddenly Sam realized that Gabriel was leaving, not at some uncertain point in the future, but right here, right now, Gabriel was leaving, and he couldn’t let that happen. He clutched onto Gabriel’s arm, not quite knowing what he could say to make him change his mind, pleading with his eyes, but Gabriel wasn’t looking at him._

_“Gabriel,” Sam said, voice small and broken. “Gabriel, please. Please, don’t go.”_

_He turned back to Sam then, who was still sitting on the sand, and reached out an arm, the one Sam was still holding on to, towards Sam’s face, and cradled his cheek, wiping the tears away with his thumb._

_“Oh, Sammy…”_

_Sam leaned into the touch, closing his eyes just for a second, and he felt lips press softly to his forehead, and then Gabriel was gone, and he was holding on to nothing._

_He let his hand fall onto the sand beside him and stared at it for several moments, unblinking. He stood up and began walking back towards the orb again, because it was something that needed to be done, and he found that he was unable to think or feel anything at that moment. Not paying even the slightest attention to what he was doing, he moved around the beach like a clockwork man, picking up the pieces in the correct order and bringing them to the orb, and watching them disappear inside._

_As soon as he felt that there were no more pieces left for him to pick, everything went dark._

…

He woke up gasping for air, like a freediver who had been under the water for too long. He felt like his chest was going to explode, and the first word on his lips was-

“Gabriel!”

He looked around the room, but it was dark, and empty, and _no, no, no, no, no, this can’t be happening,_ he thought, throwing the covers off and jumping out of bed to go do something – anything – _find him,_ he thought, _I have to find him._

“Gabriel?”

He called, again, voice thick with worry, with a litany of _‘no, no, no, no’_ and _‘please, oh please be here, somewhere’_ running through his head in a circle.

He was almost out of the room when he noticed a folded piece of paper on the bedside table, slightly glowing in the dark. It wasn’t there before, he was sure of it. He stumbled his way back, and fumbled for the light, and when he got his hands to stop shaking, he read-

_“Have a good life, kiddo._

_I’m sorry.”_

He practically crumbled to the floor, note falling from his hands, and he didn’t realize he was crying, desperately, like a child, until there was a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw Castiel’s concerned face, and he was squeezing his shoulder and saying something, and it took him some time to hear what he was saying.

“Sam? Sam, what happened? Can you hear me, Sam? Can you tell me what’s wrong? We got back an hour ago, and you were sleeping, so we didn’t want to wake you, can you hear me, Sam? Sam?!? What happened here, please, talk to me? Sam?”

 He opened his mouth to speak as soon as he understood the question, but no sound came out, so he drew in a shaky breath, and his words came out in a broken whisper.

“Gabriel. It’s-”

Another breath.

“Gabriel is gone.”


	11. Chapter 11

Sam didn’t talk to anyone for a few days. It wasn’t even that hard to do, given his usual ‘sleep through most of the day’ pattern right after the trips to the memory beach. Dean didn’t come by his room to ask him how he was feeling, and Sam was grateful for that. He knew that most likely he had Cas to thank for it. He was almost certain that it was Cas who managed to talk Dean into giving him some space.

So he would sleep through the night, and when he’d finally wake up, he would stare at the ceiling, not moving, until sleep claimed him again. He didn’t really feel or think anything, and didn’t have any dreams, and he would have preferred it to remain that way. He was blank and numb and left his bed only for an occasional trip to the bathroom.

Four days later he found himself wide awake in the middle of the night. At first he didn’t realize what it was that woke him, but then his stomach growled, and he felt hunger gnawing at his insides, and he could have sworn that it was the most intense hunger he had ever felt. He crept through the dimly lit bunker halls into the kitchen, and opened the fridge to get something quick to eat.

“Sam.”

Castiel’s voice startled him, and he jumped away from the fridge, a box of leftover pizza in his hand.

“You of all people should know that a day old pizza isn’t the best choice for someone who hasn’t eaten anything for a week to break their fast. Let me help you.”

Sam moved away from the fridge, and Castiel dove inside, rummaging through the shelves. He emerged holding a small pot in his hands, and went straight to the stove, turning it on and placing the pot on the burner to warm up. He motioned for Sam to take a seat, and Sam did, too weak to argue and not really feeling inclined to talk.

Castiel was moving around the kitchen, setting everything up, and Sam felt a little guilty that he had to be waited on, like he was a little baby.

“Thanks, Cas. But you really don’t have to. I mean – I’m fine. And it’s been just a few days, not a whole week.”

“You’re forgetting to take into account that you have been asleep for over forty-eight hours before we arrived. And today is the fifth day after you… woke up, so that makes it a full week. Here.” Castiel placed a steaming bowl in front of Sam, along with some dry crackers on a plate. “This should help get your stomach back in order. It’s mostly herbs and vegetables, nothing fancy, but it should get you going. If your stomach feels fine in two hours, then there’s some rice and chicken in the fridge. I put a post-it with your name on the dish so you won’t miss it.”

“Thank you, Cas. You’re a great friend.”

“You are welcome, Sam. And please, come talk to your brother when you’re ready. He is getting worried.”

Castiel turned and left the kitchen, and Sam was all by himself again. He ate the soup and went back to his room, to lie down and stare at the ceiling some more, but sleep never came. Then he started carefully inching towards the messy pile inside him that was his feelings about Gabriel. He was angry and he missed him, and he was angry that he missed him. He still didn’t know where he stood on the whole romantic thing, but he sure as hell wanted his friend back.

  _It shouldn’t be that bad,_ he thought. _It can hardly even be called a break-up. I have to get over it. I can’t afford be this mess any longer. He saved my life, and I should be grateful and return the favour by saving as many lives as I can. That’s what I was brought up to do after all._

So he got out of bed and went to the bathroom, and he stood under the spray of hot water, and washed his hair and brushed his teeth, and he changed his clothes and took his dirty sheets to the laundry room. He put clean sheets on his bed and went into the library. Castiel was nowhere to be seen, and Sam’s laptop sat on the table, abandoned.

He sat down and turned the laptop on, and started looking for cases. An hour later he went to the kitchen and heated up the food that Cas had left him, and took it back to the laptop to continue his research. Another half an hour later he suddenly realized that he was about to pass out, so he went back to his room and crawled into his bed.

A single thought lingered in his mind before he let the dreamless sleep claim him.

_If it shouldn’t be that bad, why does it hurt so much?_

…

 Next morning Sam walked into the kitchen when Dean and Cas were having breakfast. He poured himself a cup of coffee and plopped down onto a chair across the table from Dean.

“Mornin’, Sammy. Sleep well?”

“Uh huh.” Sam paused, sipping his coffee. “So. I was thinking. I did some research last night, and I found us a case.”

“Are you saying that you’re ready to get back out there? What about all that,” Dean paused, waving his fork around, “stuff?”

“What stuff?”

“You know, stuff! That you and – and Gabriel – were doing so that you could get better?”

“Well, Gabriel is not here, and I’m fine. I’ve got all my memories, so there is nothing to worry about.”

He stumbled slightly before he was able to say Gabriel’s name, and really hoped that his words sounded as calm and reassuring as he needed them to.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Dean.” Sam sighed, exasperated. “Look, we can ask Cas here to perform a check-up, but I’m telling you: it’s all good. I just want to do my job, okay?”

Dean shrugged and looked at Cas. Cas nodded and pressed two fingers to Sam’s forehead, and then nodded again.

“Okay,” Dean said, punctuating with his fork again, “but on one condition: you, me, gym, and the firing range. We gotta make sure you’re in good shape before going hunting again. Now, tell me what you’ve got.”

…

They took the case and dealt with the vampire nest, then a ghoul three states over, then a shapeshifter and a couple of ghosts in two towns less than two hours’ drive from each other. Sam gradually fell back into the familiar pattern of it all: find a case, drive over, investigate, deal with the monster, sleep, repeat. And to anyone else it might have seemed as a dangerous and unsettled life, but to Sam it felt… safe. He was back where he belonged, doing the job that he was brought up to do, and helping people along the way.

He made a decision to stop thinking about Gabriel.

He never had any dreams.

They returned to the bunker in June, and not because they were tired of being on the road – not yet; and Dean was more than happy to just keep driving for hours, after being cooped up in the bunker for all that time while Sam wasn’t _quite there._ They worked a case not far away, and it was only logical to stop at the bunker for the night rather than at yet another cheap motel.

Sam walked back into his room, and sank into his bed with a contented sigh. The beds in the bunker were much better than the crappy motel beds. In the morning Dean suggested they stay for a couple of days, restock their hunting gear, seeing as they were looking for a case anyway. Sam didn’t mind; after all, the bunker was the closest thing to a home they’d ever had. Besides, Dean did have a point: they needed to go through their supplies and refill whatever they managed to run out of.

Sam spent his days looking for a case while Dean was making supply runs for goofer dust, hex bags and suchlike. Everything was surprisingly quiet, and a couple of days turned into a week, and then another, and Sam still couldn’t find anything that would at least remotely suggest supernatural activity.

Then it was 4th of July, and Dean found an old grill somewhere in the bunker storage rooms, and made burgers, and Cas made steak with some complicated dressing, and Sam made salad, and the three of them sat outside by the picnic table (that was also found in one of the storage rooms), drank cold beers with their food, and watched the distant fireworks bloom in the clear sky above Lebanon.

And that night Sam had a dream.

_It was 4 th of July, they were obviously in some large city, in a big park where people gathered to watch the fireworks, and they were all looking at the sky that was bright with lights and colours. But he wasn’t looking at the fireworks, he was looking at Dean and Cas, who were standing with their backs to him, a little way away, looking at the sky, and then Castiel’s hand slipped into Dean’s, and Sam could see Dean tense for a moment, and then he relaxed, entwining their fingers, and Castiel leaned into Dean’s side, resting his head against Dean’s shoulder. Sam felt someone nudge him and whisper ‘fucking finally’ into his ear, and he turned his head and saw Gabriel. Gabriel, who was looking up at him with a raised eyebrow and a coy smile, and the multicolored lights from the fireworks were dancing in his eyes, and Sam leaned in and-_

He woke up, heart ready to leap out of his chest, dizzy and disoriented. He sagged back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling and breathing slowly, trying to get his heart rate back to normal, telling himself that it was just another of Gabriel’s memories that had nothing to do with him, and as far as he was concerned, that dream never happened. He drank some water, and managed to go back to sleep, and didn’t see any more dreams that night.

Two days later he found a case and they got back on the road, dealing with a gang of demons gone rogue, and decided, just for the fun of it, trap them all and call Crowley instead of letting Cas smite the shit outta them. Crowley made a face and admitted, reluctantly, that he might owe them a small favour. Then there were witches, and werewolves, and vampires again, and, of course, more ghosts, a poltergeist and a djinn, and then demons again, and then there was another lull in supernatural activity, so they headed back to the bunker.

It was late August, and they were driving through Kansas, and there was a sign for a harvest festival, and Dean didn’t stand a single chance against two sets of puppy dog eyes he received from Sam and Castiel. They walked through the fair and ate funnel cake and candied apples, and rode the Ferris wheel, and, seeing that they were just a few hours away from the bunker, Sam stocked up on fresh fruit and vegetables while Cas was having a serious conversation with one of the beekeepers in the honey booth.

Dean, who was left with nothing to do for the better part of an hour, wandered into a shooting pavilion and won their largest stuffed teddy bear. He was miserable when he found out that he couldn’t trade his prize for cash, and came to the spot where they all agreed to meet with the toy slung over his shoulder like some sort of a hunting trophy. On an impulse, he decided to give it to Cas, but Cas shook his head slightly and nodded towards a little girl, who was eyeing the teddy bear as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Dean nodded and walked up to the girl, dropping the bear into her outstretched arms and walking away before the girl’s parents could see him and think that he was a pervert.

They got back to the car and kept driving, and Sam dozed off in the back seat, and had another dream that involved a harvest festival, enormous amounts of cotton candy and Gabriel. He woke up with a start, and Dean asked him if everything was okay. He shrugged and said that it was just a bad dream, nothing to worry about.

They spent most of September at the bunker, going off for a hunt just a couple of times.

Sam kept having those dreams. At first he thought that as soon as all of Gabriel’s memories were out, the dreams would stop. But there were a lot more of those than he could ever imagine there would be. Gradually, he learned to cope with them. He didn’t wake up covered in cold sweat or with his heart racing any longer. They were just… dreams, and he accepted the inevitability of dreaming about Gabriel every time he fell asleep.

The odd thing about those dreams was that Gabriel wasn’t physically present in all of them. One time he found himself stuck in a little curiosity shop for almost two hours: he was looking for a perfect anniversary present for Gabriel, but got distracted by the shop’s selection of lore books. The fact that the shop also had a little reading area tucked under the staircase didn’t help at all. He ended up leaving the shop with an ancient-looking leather bracelet for Gabriel and three of the lore books. The books saved their lives on the hunt the following day, thus proving to be an excellent investment. He really hoped that Gabriel would like the bracelet (it was studded with the golden brown stones that reminded him of Gabriel’s eyes), but never knew if he did, because the dream ended abruptly in the middle of the hunt, before he had a chance to deliver his present. He brushed this one off on Gabriel being impatient about his present, and sneaking after Sam to find out what he was getting him.

But it wasn’t the only dream without Gabriel. There were random and quite often very small bits, like Sam getting groceries, or take-out breakfast at a diner, or simply driving in the car with his brother, both angels nowhere in sight; or doing laundry in their house (with time Sam learned that in Gabriel’s memories they had a house, just the two of them, and Dean shared one with Castiel). However, each and every one of those small glimpses into the _other Sam’s_ life involved thoughts about Gabriel.

He never realized when exactly it happened, but soon he started to _like_ those dreams. He knew that Gabriel was gone from his life, and was never coming back, so there was no way for him to find out where they were headed. But in his dreams… Gabriel was there, and he was happy. He thought about it for a long time and finally admitted: if dreams about Gabriel were all that he had, then he would rather have those than no Gabriel at all.

It was just a normal day, early in October, when the dreams stopped.

They were back from an exhausting hunt, and Sam collapsed onto his bed, not even bothering to take his boots off. He was out the moment his head hit the pillow, and woke up several hours later with a splitting headache, feeling cold and more exhausted than he had been before.

He staggered down the hall to the bathroom and stood under the hot spray of water for over an hour, until the ache in his limbs subsided and the giant hammer inside his head stopped pounding. He could think somewhat clearly now, and remembered that he didn’t have any dreams that night. He figured that he was coming down with a cold, so he took a couple of ibuprofen and went back to bed.

He was able to doze off after a little while, and slept until Dean came by his room, declaring that they had a case and that Sam should get his ass out of the bed and start moving.

Sam’s first few attempts at getting to his feet failed. His whole body felt like it was freezing and burning at the same time. When he finally managed to get to the kitchen, Dean looked at him as if he had seen a ghost and told him to get back to bed immediately. Half an hour later he brought him hot soup, herbal tea and lots of flu medicine. Sam said that he was fine and that Dean didn’t need to make a fuss about it, and that he and Cas should go work that case together.

Dean refused to go anywhere, of course, and Sam had to talk him into it, telling him that in case he felt he was about to die, he would pray to Cas. Dean grumbled for another half an hour, but the case involved missing children, and there were no other hunters nearby, so he begrudgingly agreed to go. Cas stopped by his room, looked at him, frowning, but didn’t say anything, and soon they were both gone.

Sam took the medicine but the thought of food made him nauseous, so he didn’t bother with it. He began dozing off as the medicine kicked in, but wasn’t able to fall asleep completely, so he lay on the bed, feeling fuzzy and unable to move. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he heard Castiel’s voice.

“You don’t have the flu, Sam.”

He finally managed to shake his half-asleep stupor off and sat up in bed, blinking, staring at Castiel who was standing in the doorway, regarding him with the same look on his face that he had before.

“Cas?” Sam managed to croak, his throat dry, and he had to pause to drink some water before he could speak again. “Is everything okay? Where’s Dean?”

“He’s at the motel. He was sleeping when I left. I didn’t say anything earlier, because I thought that you might want to keep the matter private for a while.”

“You said it’s not the flu. Do you know what’s wrong with me?”

Castiel nodded.

“Does it… does it have anything to do with my dreams?”

Castiel nodded again.

“Can you help me?”

There was a pause before he replied.

“I should hope so. But before we do this, I have to warn you, Sam. It won’t be easy for your mind to adapt to such a concept, so you might experience some difficulty at first. There’s no other way to go about this, I’m afraid, and if we leave it as it is now, it will only get worse.”

Sam nodded and closed his eyes.

“Do it.”

He felt Castiel’s fingers on his forehead, and they lingered longer than usual, but nothing was happening, and he was about to ask Castiel if everything was okay, when he felt his head getting light and empty and slightly ringing, something close to the feeling that you get right after you sneeze, and then he felt all the fever and the pain drain from his body, and he opened his eyes, about to say something, to thank Cas, but then-

He _remembered._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah I'm still sorry  
> well  
> kinda %)  
> but I promise that everything's going to get fixed next week <3


	12. Chapter 12

Castiel made sure he was okay to be on his own before he left, telling him that he would do his best to deal with the case and be back as soon as possible. Sam nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak, and didn’t even notice Castiel leaving.

His mind was reeling. It was like simultaneously trying to follow two sets of footprints that went in slightly different directions while still having just one pair of feet. Memories rushed over him like tidal waves, making him gasp for air, struggle to stay on the surface and fail at it almost immediately. However, as he was being dragged under by an impertinent wave, he discovered, to his surprise, that underneath all the turmoil it was calm and quiet. In a little while he could breathe again; and memories weren’t rushing over him any longer – they were simply _there,_ and it felt just _right_.

Still, it didn’t mean that it wasn’t weird. Some memories were like those sets of almost-identical pictures on the back of cereal boxes, where you had to spot the differences, and could do it only after you moved your eyes between the pictures until your head was about to explode. Like when they met Gabriel for the first time, when he was just a trickster, was almost identical in both worlds. There were differences, though. A more sincere and open smile from Sam here and an extra saucy wink and horrible pickup line from Gabriel there. In _this life_ , Sam found Gabriel amusing, nothing more. In the _other life_ he was considering going back to the campus to ask the sassy janitor out. He didn’t, though, and their first encounter ended the same way, with Dean ‘stabbing’ the trickster.

Mystery Spot was where the differences became more obvious. In the _other life_ it was much shorter, with only a couple of dozen Tuesday resets until Gabriel lost his patience, calling Sam a stubborn idiot and storming off after the screaming match that followed. Sam was very angry with him, of course, but also relieved that the trickster was not dead after all.

By the time Sam teamed up with Ruby in _this life_ , he already knew who Gabriel really was in _the other_. _Gabriel appeared in Sam’s motel room just a couple of days after Dean got dragged to Hell, looking tired but resolute, and told him that they needed to talk. The conversation lasted for several hours, and when it was over Sam knew everything there was to know about Michael’s grand scheme for jump-starting the apocalypse. Gabriel left him to think it all over, but popped back in the next day, offering to stick around and help him however he could. Sam said yes._

_So when Dean was brought back, just like Gabriel told him, Sam was expecting him in the nearby town. It took some time and convincing, but gradually Dean accepted the fact that the trickster was, in fact, the Archangel Gabriel, that there was an apocalypse on the loose and that Sam had it really, really bad for said archangel._

_The feeling was mutual, of course; but they simply refused to acknowledge it, and when Castiel joined their little anti-apocalypse campaign, it was as if there were some unspoken competition for the challenge cup of the worst sexual tension of all times between the two not-yet-couples._

_Gabriel had to sneak around a lot, because it was really stupid to blow his cover too soon; but he still managed to keep a lot of seals from being broken, so that the apocalypse was casually sauntering towards them, pausing for sights, coffee and sniffing daisies on sunny meadows rather than rolling in like a tsunami._

_It was Castiel who found out that Lilith was the last seal, a little over four years after Dean’s resurrection, and did it just in time, so that Gabriel could snatch her away and stick her into a pocket universe hidden inside the most hideous snow globe Sam had ever seen. At some point during those hectic four years Sam found himself sharing a motel room with Gabriel rather than Dean every once in a while, so it was only logical to make the arrangement permanent after Sam kissed Gabriel for the first time, in a crowded park in the middle of some large city where Gabriel snapped them all to watch fireworks._

_Even though the apocalypse was slow, it was still up and about, so they were used to considering themselves lucky if it were just ten kinds of crazy on any given day instead of thirty plus vampires and an earthquake. But, the apocalypse aside, Sam discovered that he had never felt happier than when he was with Gabriel._

_There was still an issue of the vessels, of course. They really needed to figure something out, and fast: the number of broken seals was nearing sixty, and it was only a matter of time until Michael realized that Lilith was missing. And they did find the solution so simple and elegant that Sam was sure Michael would smite them all on the spot when he found out. The idea belonged to Gabriel, who casually asked Sam if getting hitched was something he would consider. Sam was used to Gabriel’s train of thought jumping all over the place like a drunken kangaroo, but it took almost all of him not to choke on his food while Dean was gaping at Gabriel and Gabriel calmly explained that if the brothers chose to be bonded to, say, an archangel and an angel, then the issue of the vessels would resolve itself, for they would already be claimed._

Sam blinked as he felt a sudden ache deep inside his chest; an emptiness that wasn’t there before, in that _other life_. An emptiness that used to be filled with golden light and whiskey-coloured eyes and _home_. He drew in a shaky breath, wiping at his eyes with his hand, and clenched his jaw in sudden determination.

He was going to get the one most important thing out of his _other life_ back, or his name wasn’t Sam Winchester.

…

The next day Castiel returned, because Dean asked him to check up on Sam and tell him that they would probably need another day with the case, because _‘damn those witches and their fucking prowess with angel warding’._

Sam told him that he was much better, and that they should get on with their case and stop worrying. Castiel pointed out that Dean would never stop worrying about Sam, and Sam couldn’t help but agree with that, realizing that he had to find a way to tell Dean.

They got back two days later, and Dean went straight into Sam’s room to make sure that he was okay. Sam rolled his eyes at him and sent him to sleep: it was obvious that Dean drove through the night and didn’t have any sleep at all.

When he was sure that Dean was passed out in his room, he went to the library. Castiel was sitting on the couch, waiting for him.

“Hey,” Sam said, plopping down next to him.

“Hello, Sam. I take it that you are adjusting well?”

“You can say that, yes. Uh, Cas?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something? Can you… do you… can you see if it’s still there? The bond?”

“Yes, Sam. It is. It doesn’t quite look the way it should, but… considering everything you and Gabriel have been through, it is not surprising.”

Sam nodded a few times and stared at the floor, resting his elbows on his knees.

“It… feels different, too. Emptier. Colder.”

Sam fell silent after that, and Castiel didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue. Sam looked up at him, letting out a short humourless laugh.

“You know, I’m still not sure how exactly it is possible for me to have lived two lives as the same person in two different worlds. The lives that were supposed to have two separate versions of me, because timewise those lives were – are – simultaneous. I mean, reincarnation and past lives are one thing, but this? This is a whole new level of crazy. Even for us.”

“I can’t say I’m an expert on the matter, but the general idea is that _anything is possible_. The multiverse consists of an infinite number of worlds, stemming from the same starting point. Time is mostly linear within the worlds, but once you step out of any reality and into the multiverse itself, the physical laws of the world you used to belong to cannot affect you any longer. Gabriel would probably have a better explanation for this, but my guess is that you being thrown out of the collapsing reality and into the multiverse created some sort of paradox, enabling you to live the same life for the second time in slightly different circumstances.”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t call this _slightly!_ ” Sam scoffed.

Castiel smiled and shook his head.

“Can I ask you what do you plan to do with… all of this?”

“I have to get him back. There’s just no other way. Being so far away from him, literally worlds apart… it’s draining. I… don’t think I can live like that.”

Castiel nodded several times.

“I hope… I think I might be able to reach out to him. From that construct. The memory beach. Can you help me get back in there?”

“Yes, I think I can. Gabriel used the hourglass to keep it stable and get himself into your mind without causing you any damage. We simply need to get you in there. I can manage. The rest is entirely on you, I’m afraid, including the duration of your stay within the construct.”

“Okay. But first we have to tell Dean.”

Dean was completely and utterly shocked, of course. At first, all he said was _‘Seriously?’_ followed by storming off to his room and slamming the door behind him. Sam didn’t go after him, giving him some time to adjust. It really was _a lot_ to take in.

The next day he grumbled, and then grumbled some more, something about deep-fried archangels and holy oil. Sam didn’t say anything, waiting for him to blow off steam. Later that night he walked into Sam’s room and asked him if that was something that he really wanted. Sam nodded. Dean grunted and left.

Sam went to find Castiel.

…

_He was standing on the endless beach, waiting until his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. He looked around, noticing the slight changes. The orb wasn’t there any longer, and neither were the pattern pieces. Now it was just miles and miles of golden sand stretched along the ocean that lapped over the shore lazily, leaving long, uneven strips of seafoam in its wake._

_Sam felt the warmth of the sun seeping through his skin, filling his body with its light, calming him down, making his thoughts on how exactly this all might go wrong dissipate. He stood there, looking at the sky above him, slowly moving his gaze towards the horizon, his eyes trying and failing to find the exact spot where sky was no longer sky but the vast expanse of the ocean._

_He blinked, slowly, suddenly feeling drowsy, and tried to remember. It was something very important, that much he knew; something that he came here to do. To talk to someone – yes, that seemed like it, but there was nobody on that endless beach but him, and it seemed to him that it had always been that way._

_He wanted to move, to turn around and see that he was, indeed, alone on that beach, but his body was too heavy and refused to budge. He frowned, clenching his fists on a third try, and then slowly bringing his hand up, opening his palm when it was right in front of his eyes. He stared at it for a long while, tracing the lines on his palm with his eyes. He felt that whatever reason brought him to this place was almost there, almost within his grasp; he concentrated on the feeling, letting it grow._

_Castiel, he remembered his conversation with Castiel, and that he agreed to help him get here, so that he could – he could talk to – Gabriel-_

…

And his eyes flew open, tearing him away from the memory beach, making him groan in frustration. Castiel’s concerned face filled his vision, and he turned his head to the side to avoid the scrutinizing stare. He tried to speak, but couldn’t; so he concentrated on his breathing instead, closing his eyes again.

In a couple of minutes he felt Castiel’s hand on his shoulder, and opened his eyes again to see a glass of water held out to him. He scrambled to sit up in bed, accepting the glass with a grateful nod and a weak half-smile.

“Thank you,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice. “How long was I out?”

“A little over four hours.”

“Didn’t… didn’t feel that long. Ten, fifteen minutes, maybe half an hour; no longer than that.”

“As it should be.” Castiel nodded, taking the empty glass from his hand and setting it onto the bedside table. “When you’re inside your mind construct, your perception of time is… distorted. It’s difficult to feel how much of it had passed since you got there. You can think that it’s been mere seconds, or forever, or both. And it’s almost impossible to tell how much time passed here, in the real world, where your physical body is. How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay, I think. Can we try again?”

“I don’t think that would be wise. I can see that this attempt took a lot out of you. You should rest. We can try again tomorrow.”

“Cas. Please. I was so close. I need to do it now. I… I can’t sit around and do nothing!”

Castiel frowned and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Sam. It was risky enough letting you get in there with barely any assistance, but now, when you are clearly distressed and exhausted, it’s even more dangerous. I know that you think it should be easy, because you have done it so many times before, but I must remind you that it was the first time you did it all by yourself and without the sustaining artifact to aid the matters.”

“But you don’t understand. I _need_ to get back in there, I _need_ to find him, to _feel him,_ at least; I can’t just wait it out, Cas, because every day, hell, every _second_ that he is not here, ever since I remembered, it – it’s stretching me thin, and it _fucking hurts!_ ”

Sam realized that he was almost screaming, and the echoes of his own voice ringing inside his skull made him cringe. He dropped his head into his hands, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees, and sat there, unmoving, silent.

“I know,” Castiel said softly. “I know… exactly how you feel.”

“Please,” Sam whispered, not taking his hands off his face. “Let me try again. One more time.”

He could practically feel Castiel’s reluctance and concern, but he had to do it. Had to try, at least. Castiel didn’t say anything, and Sam didn’t urge him, waiting for his decision. Several minutes later he heard him sigh.

“Okay. I will let you try one more time today. But I shall provide you with a failsafe mechanism of sorts. I’m sure that getting lost inside your own mind is _not_ something you aim for.”

Sam looked up at him, silently trying to convey how grateful he was; for he felt that a simple ‘thank you’ wasn’t enough. He said it, nonetheless, and saw Castiel’s small smile and a nod right before he pressed two fingers to his forehead.

…

_It seemed easier this time, or so he thought; easier to remember why he came back to the beach, although he still wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he opened his eyes to the familiar scenery. He looked up to the sky, trying his best to shake off the feeling that he was being ridiculous, and started talking._

_“Hey, Gabriel,” Sam said and cleared his throat. “I know that you don’t wanna see me, but… I really need to talk to you. It’s very important, so… if you can hear me, which I’m so not sure about, please, can you – just this once – can you come talk to me?”_

_He wanted to add something, determined to keep talking until Gabriel appeared sitting on the sand beside him, just like he did so many times before. But as soon as he paused to draw a breath and try to think of the way to convince Gabriel to listen, he felt all of his strength leave him, and he was heavy and drowsy again, and it was much worse than the first time, and everything went black before he could utter another word._

…

Sam woke up and immediately reached for his phone to check the time. It was almost noon, which meant that he had slept in. Well, at least it wasn’t two days later; he had his phone to prove that. He was still a little tired, but certain that he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, so he got out of the bed, determined to find Castiel and make another attempt.

Five minutes later he found that the bunker was empty, and there was a note left for him on the library table. It read _“Supply run – back soon”,_ and Sam assumed that Castiel tagged along to keep Dean company. He sighed and went to the kitchen to get some breakfast.

After staring into the fridge blankly for what seemed like eternity, he closed it, coming up empty-handed. Suddenly he felt weak, and had to lean heavily on the kitchen counter to keep himself upright. His gaze wandered aimlessly about the kitchen, and he remembered the day Gabriel made him breakfast here for the first time; and _he remembered the day Gabriel made him breakfast for the first time when they moved in together._

He ran a hand over his face and shook his head, trying to snap out of it. He realized that he wasn’t really hungry, so he left the kitchen, hoping that the bittersweet memories would give him a little break. A minute to breathe and to forget the ache inside his soul was all that he wanted.

He went back to the library, curling up on the couch, turning the TV on, flipping through the channels until he stumbled across a documentary about kiwi birds, the same _documentary he watched with Gabriel’s running commentary that had him giggling for most of the time the program was on, and Gabriel looked so smug and proud that he could make Sam laugh even though he’d had a really shitty day; and he kept leaning in to steal short laughing kisses off Sam’s lips, and later he insisted that laughing kisses tasted like strawberry soda; Sam debated it for the sake of science, claiming that they needed to run more tests just to be sure, but eventually said that yes, they absolutely did taste like strawberry soda._

He flipped the channel and tried to focus his eyes back on the screen, seeking distraction; and he discovered that there were tears streaming down his cheeks only when he had to blink several times for his vision to clear.

Dean and Castiel found him right there on the couch a couple of hours later, and he couldn’t even manage half a smile to reassure his brother that he was okay. Dean gritted his teeth, but didn’t say anything on the matter, and Sam was grateful for that.

“Shower,” Dean said, pointing his finger at him and moving it in the direction of the bathroom. “Now. Food will be ready in half an hour.”

Sam nodded and got off the couch, doing his best not to show that, for the briefest moment, he didn’t think he’d be able to get up. He walked down the corridor towards the bathroom, and was relieved to get a brief break from the memories while he showered.

Dean made him grilled cheese and tomato rice soup, the two things that had always been comfort foods for Sam; translated from Dean’s man-speak, it meant _I care about you and will support you no matter what._ However, that didn’t mean Gabriel would be able to avoid Dean’s ‘big brother speech’ if Sam succeeded in bringing him back. _When,_ he thought, _when I bring him back. Not if._

He dug into his food, suddenly aware of how hungry he was, and had to will himself to slow down and chew properly. Dean kept him company, but Cas was nowhere to be seen.

“So,” Sam said, once his hunger subsided somewhat. “Where’s Cas?”

“Eat your food, Sammy. It can wait.”

“You think that I’m wasting my time, don’t you, Dean?”

“I never said that.”

“Yeah, but you don’t believe I’ll be able to do it. To get him back. I mean, why would you even want that? The guy drove you crazy on a daily basis for almost two months, I’m sure that you wouldn’t want that to become something permanent!”

Dean looked up from his plate, setting his sandwich aside, and leveled him with a hard stare.

“No, Sam, see, that’s where you’re wrong. I believe that you can do it. If it was anyone else, I would have said no, but you? You can do it alright. But the thing is – _you_ don’t believe it. You’re running in circles inside your head, trying to avoid that… that thing that’s been stuck in there ever since you remembered all that ‘other life’ crap.”

“It’s not crap, Dean.”

“Don’t change the subject; you know what I’m talking about. And yes, it’s important to you, I can see that. It’s more important than anything that we’ve ever had to deal with before, and this is exactly why I’m telling you this: _you_ think that you _can’t do it_. Deep down, you have accepted the defeat, and you’re doing everything that you can to avoid that thought. And yes, I don’t like Gabriel. He’s an asshole and has this nasty habit of annoying everyone around him. But it’s not about me; it’s about you, Sammy. I’m your brother and I know you better than anyone, and I’ve seen you like this before. With Jess. But guess what? Jess was dead, and there was nothing you could have done about that. Gabriel isn’t, so all I’m saying is get your shit together and quit acting like he is!”

Sam didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply sat there, gaping at his brother, who shot him another pointed look and returned to his sandwich. Sam looked at him, trying his best to process his words, but it seemed that his brain was temporarily out of the game, shut down by Dean’s unexpected outburst. He blinked several times, and, still not knowing what to say, returned to his food as well.

“How… how can you be so sure that I can do it?” Sam said after a long pause, when his brain finally came back online.

“Well, you did it before, what makes you think that you can’t do it again?”

“Wha… what do you mean? Did it before?”

“Yeah, didn’t Gabriel tell you?” Dean looked up at him, frowning. “It was when the reality tried to eject you yet again, and we got into a fight and Gabriel bailed on us, but then he was back a few hours later, and he told me that it was you who did it. Reached out to him, I mean. And when you told me about everything that you remembered, I figured that it was some weird bond thing you two got going.”

Sam felt as if someone had hit him on the head with a sledgehammer. _The bond._ Of course, how could he not think about it in the first place? He was doing it all wrong.

“Dean,” Sam said, jumping from his chair and wrapping his brother in a fierce hug. “Thank you.”

He quickly let Dean go, even before he was able to open his mouth to start grumbling about chick-flick moments, spun on his heels and headed out of the kitchen.

“Hey, where are you going?” Dean called after him.

“To find Cas,” Sam called back, heading down the corridor. “I’m going to get Gabriel!”

…

 

_Sam sat down on the sand and looked at the ocean, feeling the warmth of the sun on his back, the silky, smooth texture of the sand under his fingers._

_Then he tore his gaze away from the waves and stared at the sand in front of him, remembering all the time he had spent there, looking at the pattern, rearranging the pieces on the sand. He remembered Gabriel sitting by his side, his presence warm and reassuring. He remembered Gabriel’s eyes lighting up in the sun and the laughter that seemed to be permanently trapped inside them. Remembered Gabriel’s silly jokes and his crazy dance, feet kicking the sand high into the air. Remembered their movie marathons and their walks. Remembered his dreams. And so, so much more._

_And then he concentrated on all of it at once. On Gabriel._

_And **pulled.**_

_And waited._

_And then waited some more._

_Finally, Sam turned to the right, looking at Gabriel, who was sitting on the sand beside him. Gabriel was smiling at him, but there was so much pain in his eyes, that Sam ached to wrap his arms around him and never let him go. He didn’t move, though. It wasn’t the right time – or place – to do that._

_“Never underestimate the Winchesters and their stubbornness, that’s what I always say.” Gabriel chuckled, but his eyes remained sad and dull. “What are we doing here, Sam?”_

_Suddenly Sam felt his throat go dry._

_“We – we need to talk, Gabe.”_

_Something in the way that Sam said his name made Gabriel twitch, almost imperceptibly, but it was there, and Sam noticed._

_“Well,” Gabriel said, nonchalant, “since you managed to drag me here – which was pretty impressive, I must say – I’m all ears.”_

_Sam shook his head._

_“Not here. Back at the bunker. I’ve got something I need you to see. And I can’t show it to you here.”_

_Gabriel stared at him, head tilted to the side, and didn’t say anything._

_“Please,” Sam said. “Just this once. I’ll leave you be and won’t bother you again, I swear.”_

_Gabriel sighed._

_“I suppose,” he said, “that you will keep bothering me until I do what you want. That’s Winchester stubbornness for you. Fine. I’ll do it. But it better be something important.”_

_Sam managed a nervous smile and a nod, and Gabriel snapped his fingers._

…

Sam opened his eyes and blinked a few times, staring at the ceiling above him.

“Well,” came the impatient voice from the other end of the room. “What was so important that you had to drag me all the way here?”

Slowly, very slow Sam sat up in bed, turning his head until his eyes fell on Gabriel.

Gabriel was standing by the far wall, arms crossed in front of his chest. He looked worn and tired, like someone who had given up on everything a long time ago, and was now living by habit, not bothering with questions like _‘what’s the point’_ any longer. He raised an eyebrow at Sam, as if telling him to get on with it, so it could all be over and done with as soon as possible.

A few seconds went by in silence, and Sam, who was carefully watching Gabriel’s reaction, realized that something was wrong. He knew the bond was still in place, but Gabriel – Gabriel was acting like it wasn’t there; like being in the same room with Sam did nothing but remind him of something that he once had and couldn’t bring back. _It hurt him to look at Sam because he was sure that this Sam was not the man he fell in love with._

Startled by the sudden realization, Sam sucked in a breath, his mind racing. He needed to do something, to make Gabriel _remember,_ to make him see Sam’s soul reaching out to him, just like it _used to-_

 _This is it,_ Sam thought, _this is your only chance, don’t fuck this up._

And he started talking.

“I want you to stay here. With me.”

“Whoa, Sammy, tell me what you really think, why don’t you? We’ve been over this, remember? I told you then, and I’m going to tell you now: I can’t. Why do you think I’d change my mind?”

Gabriel was angry, but his anger was halfhearted at best. It wasn’t that he was pretending, it simply looked as if he had a general idea that Sam’s words were supposed to make him angry, and tried acting accordingly, but had forgotten how to do it halfway through.

Sam was pretty sure his heart had just skipped a beat. He took a deep breath.

Carefully, so as not to spook a wild animal, he tossed the covers aside and got up from the bed.

“Because,” he said, taking a careful step towards Gabriel, “I remember what it feels like to wake up next to you, half of my body too hot, with you draped all over it, and the other half too cold, because you hogged all the blankets at some point during the night.”

“Because,” he said, taking another step, keeping his eyes on Gabriel’s, “I remember that when I wake you up, you are grumpy and refuse to move a finger, so when I tell you that I’m cold, you drape your wing around me, and that is one of the best feelings in the world.”

“Because, - he said, watching something shift in Gabriel’s eyes, “I remember your wings. You always said that they didn’t smell like anything to you, but to me your wings smell like honeydew, and summer noon, and raindrops, and lightning. I never told you this before; I wanted to figure it out first, and then it was too late. So, now you know.”

“Because,” he said, “I remember you calling me every ridiculous nickname you could think of; there were thousands of them, and you tossed them around all the time, like they didn’t have any purpose other than to tease me or make me laugh. But there was one nickname, one that you loved most, and you never used it when others were around.”

Sam took another step and saw Gabriel mouth the word, and he nodded.

“Because,” he said, taking a step, watching Gabriel begin to tremble, ever so slightly, “I remember our first kiss. There were fireworks. Literally.”

He smiled at the memory, and Gabriel smiled back, though he probably didn’t know it.

Sam’s room wasn’t that large. They were pretty close by now.

Sam took another step forward.

“Because,” he said, “I remember standing with you in the stream that ran through the woods, with harvest moon above our heads, and I remember Naming you, and I remember you Naming me.”

Gabriel’s eyes were filled with tears now, and they were streaming down his cheeks, but his eyes were shining, and Sam watched the pain being washed away, slowly, very slow. He took the final step, and now they were as close as it was possible without touching.

“Because,” Sam said, “I am your bonded, and you are mine, and all I’m asking you is – _please,_ _Gabriel,_ please, look into my soul and tell me what you see.”

Sam didn’t say anything else.

And waited.

Slowly, so very slow, Gabriel reached out his hand and pressed it against Sam’s chest, right over his heart.

A second went by.

Then another.

Gabriel blinked and looked up at Sam, and Sam’s hands flew up to cradle his face, wiping the tears off his cheeks, and he was crying, or laughing, or both, and suddenly his feet couldn’t hold him any longer, and he sagged down onto the floor, pulling Gabriel with him, and their lips met somewhere in between.

Their kiss didn’t last long, for they were both a mess: a wonderful, laughing, crying mess, sitting on the floor, holding on to each other for dear life.

Later they could never tell how long they had been sitting there, frozen in that moment of utter joy, the feeling so intense it _hurt_.

And then, finally, Gabriel took a deep breath, and let it all out, feeling the air slide between their lips as he let a single word, soft, and quiet, and tender, tumble off his tongue.

“Samshine,” he said.

And their time started anew.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well  
> this is it  
> what did you think TELL ME  
> no really I'd love to hear your thoughts on the thing so come talk to me - either here or [on tumblr](http://annie-thyme.tumblr.com/)  
> it's a little bit sad that it is over now but timestamps will sure be here at some point I promise  
> thank you for reading and staying with me through this  
> I loved writing it and I just hope that you enjoyed reading it as much <3


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